


I'm Taking Back the Crown

by daphnerunning



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Canon Continuation, M/M, Past Inui/Kaidou, mentioned Yanagi/Inui, next gen captains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: Shouldering the responsibility of a Nationally-winning team as Captain is hard work. Having a rival makes it easier, even if that rival is someone Kaidou wouldn't mind getting closer to. But closeness is a difficult thing, when old friendships seem to crumble, and the scariest things are suddenly the most desirable ones.Next year Kirihara and Kaidou, navigating the challenges of Captaincy and their growing sense of destiny.(I know, this ship doesn't exist. But shouldn't it?)
Relationships: Kaidou Kaoru/Kirihara Akaya
Comments: 14
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Yanagi cancels plans without an explanation, and that’s what really starts it all. Or maybe it’s destiny. Kirihara isn’t sure if he believes in destiny, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t believe in him.

Yanagi does it simply, giving Kirihara a little nod and telling him, “I won’t be making our meetup this evening, Akaya.” He offers no reason, no alternate plans, no way to reschedule. Just a small smile, and then he walks away, willowy and tall, leaving Kirihara with no idea how to study English without his tutor present. True, Yanagi isn’t his official tutor, not now that he’s in high school, but that’s only across the street, and he’s always found time to help Kirihara with his homework, making sure his grades stay high enough to be captain.

They were going to meet at Kirihara’s house, but he’s too annoyed, too frustrated to go there now. Miyu will be there, dumb sister, and if she tries to talk to him he’ll scream, and they’ll both get in trouble.

He heads for an arcade instead, and blows most of his allowance killing aliens. It distracts him for a few minutes, but doesn’t take away that uncomfortable ache in his belly—why had he been stood up? What was Yanagi doing that was so _important_? Why hadn’t he just asked him not to cancel? Is that what he was supposed to do? Why does he even care? Stupid Yanagi. Stupid English teacher, demanding that he pass all those stupid quizzes. How is he supposed to know what to do on the homework, anyway? Does _everyone_ have a tutor? Sometimes it seems like it.

The street court isn’t on the way to his house, but Kirihara shuffles there anyway, tennis bag on his back, not sure if he’s hoping for someone to play or for it to be empty, a place to smack balls against the fence until they’re stuck so deeply his fingers can’t pry them out.

It’s occupied.

Yanagi-senpai is there, hitting balls with his calculated grace, eyes closed to mere slits in the dim lighting. The sun is going down, but Kirihara can still see the way another tall form hits the balls back, both of them in perfect silence. They don’t grunt. They don’t growl. They don’t trade teasing words. It’s as if they’re in perfect sync, telepathic or some shit, Yanagi and that stupid glasses guy with the bad spiky hair from Seigaku.

_But I beat him!_

The thought is hot and angry, and Kirihara doesn’t notice his fingernails breaking off against the handle of his racquet.

_I beat that stupid megane bastard! You’re supposed to not care anymore!_

But Yanagi does care, if he’s playing tennis in the growing darkness, if he’s skipping out on tutoring Kirihara to do this. Hasn’t he gotten enough data already? Didn’t they get data all of last fall at U-17? Wasn’t that why Yanagi had _left him_ there, going up to that mountain to spend time with this stupid bastard, leaving him to deal with psycho coaches and ghosts and golden gauntlets and stuff?

The rally continues. Anther nail breaks against his grip tape. Kirihara can’t remember seeing either of them take a point. This is less like watching tennis and more like watching weirdoes in the park play chess, all about thinking and moving carefully in a way that makes Kirihara hate the idea of sports. Something sick squeezes at his throat. It’s hot and hard to name, and makes Kirihara sweat, holding still to keep from making any noise.

The sky turns fully dark. Streetlights flick on. Someone jogs past. The ball pings off the sweet spot of one Prince racquet and one Völki. The only illumination is the big lights above the court. Kirihara feels cold, even though it’s early June. He should be home, ready to get up in the morning and lead practice, but he’s standing absolutely motionless, feeling like he’s lost something.

A car passes. Two bugs sit on Kirihara’s arm and start crawling on top of each other. Another jogger passes, and then a couple of kids laughing. Without any signal Kirihara can see, the megane guy from Seigaku reaches out a hand, snatching the ball out of midair. “Good game, Professor.”

_Fuck you! You don’t get to call him a nickname!_

“And you, Doctor.”

_Stop it, Yanagi-senpai! I don’t wanna hear you call him that!_

“There is an 88% chance that you will say yes if I invite you for gyuudon tonight.”

“I believe it goes up to 100% if you promise not to attempt to improve the food, Sadaharu.”

 _You’re only supposed to call_ us _by our first names! Rikkai, your team!_ It doesn’t matter if they’d all graduated months ago, they’re still _Rikkai_ , still Kirihara’s. Blood drips onto the ground from where his left hand curls in on itself, broken nails biting into his palm.

“A game of Go while we eat, Renji?”

_That’s a boring game! You’re a boring, stupid guy, and I totally beat you!_

“Lead the way.”

Kirihara doesn’t move even as the two of them file out of the court, in the opposite direction of where Kirihara stands. The second they round the fence, Kirihara feels himself start to breathe again, hot rage making him almost levitate off the ground. Rationally, he knows there’s no damn reason to be this angry, not when it’s fine, it doesn’t matter, Yanagi-senpai is allowed to eat whatever he wants with anyone he wants—but doesn’t he care that Kirihara can _beat_ this guy, can leave him in a bloody puddle on the ground, gasping around his own crushed bones? Wasn’t that why Kirihara had _done it_ in the first place?

Footsteps slap the ground. Someone else is jogging. Suddenly, the footsteps come to a stop, and Kirihara’s head moves, snapping to the side. It hurts. His neck hurts after being frozen for hours.

It’s the guy, the other one. The bandana guy from Seigaku. Kaidou. Kirihara had crushed him, too. Just now, he doesn’t look angry, the way he had on the courts. He looks…Kirihara doesn’t know. Stricken. Hollow. Like something’s been taken for him, something he’d been promised. His hands clench on empty air, and Kirihara’s own hands ache.

He steps forward, and Kaidou notices him, stepping back with a weird hiss. How many times had he jogged past? And he _still_ hadn’t noticed Kirihara—so much for awareness of his surroundings. “They’re gone,” he says, and his voice is hoarse.

Kaidou gives him a short, curt nod, and another hiss.

Is this what it means when a movie says they ‘understand each other?’ Kirihara doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to be anything like this guy, who tags around after Kirihara’s old vice-captain like a lost puppy and never plays singles even if he’s the Captain now. He’d been weird at U-17, and he’s weird now. “We’re gonna cream you guys at the Kanto this year,” he says, because he doesn’t know how to talk without fighting words.

That seems to break the weird spell on them, anyway. The guy hisses, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, sure,” he says, voice gravelly for his age. “Don’t lose in City before you get there.”

“Fuck you! We’ll never lose in City! We’re number one!”

This is better. This is familiar. Kirihara can talk tennis trash all day, and never think about how his hands are bleeding from a weird and pretty lame reason.

Kaidou snorts. “ _We’re_ the National Champions. What’re you supposed to be number one in?”

“You don’t even live here! Aren’t you from Tokyo?”

That brings Kaidou up short, and he lets out another hiss, face dark as he looks away. “I went on a run.”

“You followed that guy. Your senpai. All the way to Kanagawa. Did you run, like that brat?”

Kaidou lets out a hiss, his face contorting, and looks away. “You?”

“I—it was an accident.”

Kaidou jerks his chin towards the court. “He was supposed to coach me tonight. I wanted to know…it doesn’t matter. I should have known by now.”

That last part sounds like it’s addressed to someone else, maybe to himself. Kirihara hears an echo of the angry, hollow feeling in his own chest, and hates it.

Kaidou scuffs a food on the ground. “They do this sometimes. Did you know?”

Kirihara shakes his head. “I don’t get it. I _beat_ him. What’s so good about him?”

“You disrespecting Inui-senpai?” Kaidou roars, suddenly loud enough to shake the stillness around them. “Your dirty, nasty tricks—a real man beats his opponents fair and square!”

Fuming, Kirihara grabs his racquet, flashing suddenly back to slapping it down between Yanagi-senpai and Sanada-fukubuchou’s hand, protecting him for the first time, not even knowing why. “Gimme a game, then!” he snarls, suddenly wanting very badly to beat this guy into the ground. Maybe then, it’ll make sense—why he could beat this guy, beat that Inui guy, and Yanagi-senpai still stood next to him and said, “Magnificent—“

And wasn’t talking to Kirihara.

Kaidou snorts at him. “Who brings a racquet on a jog?”

Kirihara scowls. “Tomorrow. Meet me tomorrow, then!”

Kaidou looks away from him, back to the empty tennis court. He’s not doing as good a job as Kirihara is at pretending he has a reason to be there. “Thought they’d talk more,” he finally says. “Not just…stare like that.”

“I can stare,” Kirihara mutters resentfully, and kicks a nearby tree, hard enough to fracture a bit of bark from the base of it. “Ow.”

Kaidou shoots him a look that says he’s dumb as fuck. Kirihara glares at him. “Tell that guy to leave Inui-senpai alone. He’s busy in high school.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kirihara snarls. “Yanagi-senpai is too weak to that guy.”

“Fine.”

Only then does Kirihara realize that he’s agreed to something, he guesses.

~

A week later, he gets a text from Kaidou, and stuffs his phone hurriedly into his bag. What if the other guys on his team see them texting? What if they think he’s doing some kind of weird collusion or teamwork or whatever with the enemy captain?

Then, in a fit of brilliance, he changes Kaidou’s name in his phone to his first name, Kaoru. He doesn’t know the kanji, so he just types it in hiragana, ignoring the fact that it looks kind of cute that way. Guys aren’t cute. Kaidou definitely isn’t cute, with his surly face and deep growling hiss. That’ll definitely throw everyone off.

**Kaoru: they meeting tonite** ****

Kirihara frowns.

**Akaya: how do u kno?** ****

**Kaoru: inui-senpai canceled on me. only does that when they have plans.** ****

Kirihara doesn’t know how to answer that, so he doesn’t respond. After school, he runs over to the high school in his fifteen minutes before practice, waiting outside of Yanagi’s classroom. He’s talking to Sanada, their heads lowered in conversation, and Kirihara relaxes. Then Sanada says something, and Yanagi shakes his head. “Sorry, Genichirou. I have plans today.”

“Yanagi-senpai!” Kirihara can’t help himself, not with the way his heart thuds harder than usual against his ribs. He trots up, just a bit out of breath, and Sanada glares at him.

“You should be running practice. Tarundoru!”

“It hasn’t started yet—Yanagi-senpai, my English homework—“

“I’m busy tonight, Akaya.” Yanagi pats his shoulder, and glides out of the door. “Tomorrow, perhaps.”

~

They do meet the next day. Yanagi tries to help him with subject, object, verb structure. Kirihara kicks the wall and crunches wasabi peas the whole time, asking dumb questions and letting his mind wander. Finally, he asks, “Why do you like that megane guy so much, anyway?”

Yanagi’s face doesn’t change in the slightest. One slender finger taps the homework. “You’ve got number 17 wrong as well.”

Kirihara bares his teeth.

~

Kaidou wonders if Kirihara is having better luck with Yanagi than he is with Inui.

Inui cancels another date with him. Kaidou picks a fight with Momoshiro, and deliberately gives him an easy opening, taking the hard punch on his cheekbone. The pain bursts in his head, clearing some of the angry fog that follows him around. He wishes he could ask Momoshiro to hit him again, but even that idiot would think it was weird.


	2. Chapter 2

_Why do you like that megane guy so much, anyway?_

The question haunts Kirihara’s dreams. He chases Yanagi, but he’s always a step too slow, a step behind. He grabs him finally and shakes him, but the more he shakes, the more Yanagi crumbles, falling apart into dust. He has to sort the dust, but only someone as smart as Yanagi would be able to put it all together. Then Inui shows up, assembling Yanagi from so many spare parts, and pushes him gently forward. “It’s all right if he’s a robot now,” he says, and Yanagi robot’s eyes glint as impersonally as Inui’s behind his stupid square glasses. “I like him just as much this way. You will too.”

Yanagi robot shuffles closer, reaching out a stiff arm, and runs it down Kirihara’s shoulder. “98% chance you have an erection,” he says, and Kirihara wakes with his shorts sticky.

That morning, he goes the long way to school, stopping to hit ball after ball at his favorite stone wall. _This time, I’m gonna_ , he thinks bitterly to himself, but it’s not as easy as when his goal had been to become number one.

~

The lady who works at the school AV room pretends like she doesn’t know him. Kirihara scowls. Doesn’t she know the tennis team captain?

She still lets him check out the videos of last year’s nationals win, even if she seriously doesn’t look like she knows who he is, which is weird, because he’s number one. Kirihara remembers visiting this room with the team, and the lady had called Yanagi-senpai by name, then tried to flirt with Sanada. It’s always funny to watch women do that, especially when Sanada looks like the vein in his head is about to pop.

He’s never checked this particular video out before, because even thinking about it makes him sick to his stomach. Not the win—that had been good. That had been right. He’d worked hard as hell, and it had paid off, making him the _champion_. Maybe he can just shut off the video before the very end. Yeah, he’ll stop it when he’s just scored the winning, bloody point, but before Yanagi-senpai looks over at the dumb guy he beat and tells him—

_“Magnificent, Sadaharu.”_

Not like he can’t hear that dumb sentence in his mind every time he closes his eyes.

It’s weird to watch himself, especially when he turns all red and starts licking his racquet. Kirihara slouches down in the overstuffed chair, glaring at the screen and glad he’d locked the door. It’s fun when he’s in the moment, but it’s just weird to see it when he’s calm, when his heart rate is as slow as it’s ever going to be. Soon, he gets distracted by how sweet it is to watch the ball _ping_ perfectly off of his racquet, about how well he and Yanagi-senpai work together. Bit by bit, he convinces himself more and more that Yanagi-senpai is stupid. They’d been a _great_ team. They’d defeated those stupid Seigaku guys, even when they’d both lost to them in singles.

On the screen, Kaidou lets out a scream, eyes gone bloodshot. Kirihara leans forward, intrigued. He hadn’t remembered that, lost in the haze of his own roiling emotions. He also hadn’t remembered the way that dumb Inui guy had reached up, holding Kaidou’s hand, speaking quietly to him in a way that the cameras hadn’t caught, until the red faded from Kaidou’s eyes.

Kirihara’s stomach does a funny turn, and he scowls at the TV, pausing the frame. That’s why they’d lost, duh. You don’t pull back your favorite weapon just because it might get broken. Yanagi-senpai had never tried to pull _him_ back from the edge. Not until U-17, when he’d farmed the job out to Shiraishi.

Something about the tableau bothers him. Himself, eyes mad, clutching the racquet with easy grace, muscles over-tensed and veins throbbing; Yanagi-senpai, standing cooly behind him, racquet held at his side, waiting for a chance ball; Inui, bleeding and broken on the ground, long form contorted with pain that he totally deserved, reaching up; Kaidou, back arched in what looks like pained ecstasy, eyes wide and startled as he looks down at his doubles partner. Kirihara stares at it for a while, then gets bored of staring and hits play again, grabbing a bag of shrimp chips from his tennis bag. “Weird,” he mutters, and watches the match three more times, always stopping the playthrough before Yanagi-senpai can call that Inui guy ‘magnificent.’

On the fourth time through, he hits play too late after rewinding, and notices something he hadn’t seen before. Before he and Yanagi had entered the court (Kirihara’s only ever bothered to watch the parts that have him in it), Inui had turned to Kaidou, a large hand cupping his face, speaking softly to him, their faces close together. That hand bothers Kirihara. Worse is the way Kaidou’s own hand comes up, the back of one finger gently brushing the hem of Inui’s shirt. Who does that? Kirihara doesn’t do that.

The emotions follow him through the rest of the day, making his stomach turn over (though he still eats a big lunch), never able to put a name to what he’s feeling.

~

Old senpais really need to leave Kaidou alone.

There’s something about seeing last year’s third-year students that makes him feel as if no time has passed, as if he hasn’t grown at all as a person since then. He isn’t an awkward second-year with a weird return anymore, he’s the Captain of a nationally winning team. He’s a third-year, taller and stronger and with better endurance. He’s a force to be reckoned with, even if he’s never sure what he’s doing is right.

The insecurity bleeds through. He calls for laps in the morning, and only on the fifth time around the court, himself at the front, does he notice Echizen lazing under a tree.

“Echizen. Get up and run.”

Echizen’s eyes are lidded as he blinks up at Kaidou, watching him jog in place. “Looks like a lot of work…”

Kaidou’s lips pull back from his teeth. He gets ready to snarl out a threat, but Echizen is already climbing to his feet, giving him a long-suffering look.

“I’m up, I’m up. Tch, it’s too hot.”

Kaidou’s eyes trail the receding backs of their teammates. “First one to catch up with them wins,” he offers.

“I’ll win, though. I don’t lose.”

Echizen sounds lazy, but there’s a spring in his step now. He shoots off while Kaidou is between steps, pausing as soon as he catches the pack to give Kaidou a sly grin. “What do I win, Kaidou-buchou?”

Kaidou snorts. “You’re still five laps behind.”

“Ehh...no fair...”

“Run!” Kaidou thunders, and sends a couple of first years scurrying for cover in front of him.

At the clubhouse, Kaidou showers, ignores Kachirou when he tries to hand out smoothies (just get a juicer, Kachirou Smoothie doesn’t have the same ring as Inui Juice), and tries not to think about how Tezuka could have made Echizen run without losing his temper.

~

“It isn’t like you to ask me over first twice in a row, Kaidou,” Inui says, glasses glinting. “Interesting. Are you feeling neglected?”

The calculated mockery in Inui’s tone makes Kaidou’s mouth water as if he’s about to vomit. He ducks his head, tension in every muscle, and hangs up the phone.

He picks it up again a minute later, because the only thing worse than doing something is doing nothing.

**Kaidou: : ill bring my raquet tonite.**

If Kirihara turns him down for a game, Kaidou might just keep running, past Kanagawa. Maybe all the way to Kansai. Or just right into the ocean.

**Kirihara: can u help me with english after?**

Kaidou scowls down at his phone. What does he look like, a nerd? Kirihara is his _rival_ , he’s already going to have to assign himself punishment training for the unsanctioned match.

He grabs his racquet, tugs on his running shorts, and ties a red bandana around his hair.

**Kaidou: fine.**

~

Kirihara beats him. Neither of them feel satisfied. Kirihara shakes out his wild, wavy curls, and asks him in a voice that sounds too young for his frame, taller and stronger than last year, “What makes math so great, anyway?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care about math.”

That had been the deal. Inui-senpai would deal with the math. Kaidou would follow his lead.

Acting as if it’s going to burn him, Kirihara gingerly fishes out a crumpled paper from his backpack. “Dunno what makes English so great, either.”

Kaidou grunts. He stares at the paper, and frowns. “I’m not a tutor,” he warns. “I don’t know how to make it make sense.”

Kirihara sighs. “A genius hasn’t been able to teach me. Maybe I need to learn from an idiot.”

“What did you call me, bastard?”

They don’t get much English done. But they do get another round in, and Kaidou takes it 6-4.

~

Yanagi blowing him off is frustrating. Kirihara has a weird feeling that Inui blowing Kaidou off isn’t frustrating, it’s something else. He’s not sure what, but he hates it, hates seeing the way Kaidou’s shoulders slump afterwards, the anger fading from his eyes to a weary depression.

Kirihara grinds his teeth, and needles Kaidou until the anger flares back up. That makes him look more like the snarling young man he shared a room with at U-17.

“Why don’t you just tell him to fuck off?” he demands, when Kaidou calms down, once they’re both sweating, blood pumping through them in a hot tattoo.

Kaidou shakes his head, bandana sweat-damp against his forehead, and doesn’t answer.

“What’s so good about him?” Kirihara turns, kicking a foot at the net’s post. “Yanagi-senpai is all focused on him, even though he’s really smart and cool and gets to hang out with Yukimura-buchou and Sanada-fuku-buchou and anyone would be lucky to hang out with them! And _you_...”

Kaidou looks up at him, something tense and unhappy in his expression. “What?” he asks gruffly. “Me what?”

Kirihara stares, frustrated, unsure why he feels like punching that Inui guy even more now. _You deserve better_ , he kind of wants to say, but has a feeling Kaidou would take it weird. And that’s not wrong, it would _be_ weird, because he doesn’t usually think about friendships in terms of what people deserve.

Kaidou listens to him not answer, then sighs. “Gimme your English homework.”

Kirihara hands it over.

Kaidou stares at the red marks, and jabs a finger at the paper. “You always mix up your Ls and Rs.”

Kirihara scowls. “Yeah.”

“So stop it.”

“It’s not that easy!”

Kaidou grunts. “I didn’t say it was easy. Nothing worth doing is easy.”

“That doesn’t sound right!”

“Well, it is right!”

Kirihara scowls. “Eating is worth doing, and it’s easy!”

Kaidou lets out a hiss, and grabs a pen from a rolled-up case, making neat notes on the page. “You should watch TV.”

“I do!”

“No, I mean...you should watch English TV. Like cartoons,” Kaidou says gruffly. “Or watch an English voice-over of some anime you like. It’s an easy way to get the hang of the language.”

Slowly, Kirihara’s eyes widen. “You mean I can watch cartoons and it’s _homework?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“Come to my house,” Kirihara says impulsively. “Show me where to watch English cartoons, I always skip by them.”

Kaidou hesitates, looking around the dark court, as if he’s seeing something that isn’t there. “Yeah. Okay.”

Having Kaidou over feels kind of familiar. He does all the lame traditional stuff that Sanada and Yanagi always do, whenever they come over to scold him into better grades, like gravely announcing his presence before taking off his shoes, bowing to the shrine in the front room, and looking around for Kirihara’s parents to introduce himself to.

“Dad’s at work, Mom’s out with Nee-san,” Kirihara explains quickly, and brushes past Kaidou to hit the kitchen. “You want something to eat?”

“Sure. Anything’s fine.”

“Uhhh...” Kirihara squats down to look through the snack cabinet, then straightens up to rifle through the fridge. “Sweet, Mom made oyakodon!” He pulls out an enormous covered glass bowl, eagerly ladling it into two huge ramen bowls, popping one after the other into the microwave. “She does it with glass noodles she soaks in the broth,” he brags. “It’s _way_ better than what you get at any conbini.”

Kaidou gives him a grunt. Kirihara hears running water, and turns to look over his shoulder, blinking. “Um, you don’t have to do the dishes?”

Kaidou shrugs. “I’m a guest. It’s only fair.”

“Yeah, but it’s my turn, I’m pretty sure Mom would kill me...” It’s a sort of weak protest. It isn’t as if he _likes_ doing the dishes, after all, so he grins. “Well, I’m feeding you, so there’s a good trade!”

The microwave beeps, and he pulls out one bowl, shoving the other one in a bit too eagerly, making it slosh against the side. Only a little bit spills, so he ignores it. The hot bowl he moves to the table, grimacing as it burns his fingers. Stupid bowl, being hot after heating. “They should make heat-proof bowls,” he complains. “So you can put really hot food in them and they don’t burn you.”

“Put a towel around it.”

“But what if you forget?”

“Are you a baby?” Kaidou growls. “Just remember!”

Kirihara wipes his hands on his thighs, as if wiping off the heat, and scowls over at the sink, where Kaidou is drying off the last clean dish. “Do you play video games?”

Kaidou blinks, clearly confused by the change in topics, then shakes his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Spend most of my time training.”

“But it’s great for reflexes!” Kirihara grins. “I bet I could beat your ass at Darkstalkers!”

The microwave beeps, and he turns back to retrieve the bowl, only to feel something soft hit him in the back of the head. His hand flies up, and finds a slightly damp dishtowel.

“For the bowl,” Kaidou says, and Kirihara’s eyes light up with understanding.

“Right!”

Grabbing a towel just to move a bowl five feet seems fussy and dramatic, and Kirihara isn’t sure he’s _ever_ done it before. Even so, the food feels pleasantly warm against his hands this time.

Kaidou murmurs his thanks before digging his chopsticks in, and Kirihara gleefully does the same, forgetting everything for a moment besides his mom’s super awesome cooking. He looks up, a minute in, to find Kaidou staring at him, a little flush on his cheeks.

Kirihara blinks. “Huh? What is it?”

Kaidou shakes his head. “Nothing. It just--you really like oyakodon, huh?”

“ _This_ oyakodon,” Kirihara says around a mouthful. “But ramen’s the best.”

Kaidou’s mouth twitches. Kirihara grins. “Hey, what do you do for fun?”

“Train.”

Kirihara rolls his eyes. “No, like, for _fun_. You should do fun things more often.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re way better looking when you smile.”

He means it teasingly. It’s the kind of thing Niou says to Marui a lot, and it always makes Marui pout and throw things at him.

Kaidou doesn’t pout and throw things. He actually _blushes_ , bowing over his oyakodon, tugging his bandana down low. For reasons Kirihara can’t understand, his own stomach feels weird and hot at the sight, and he finishes the rest of his food in confused silence.

Afterwards, they move to the TV room, and Kaidou shows him how to flip the settings on some channels to English. Kirihara tolerates that for about five minutes, then insists on hooking up Darkstalkers 3. He picks Jedah Dohma, gives Kaidou Bishamon, and teases him every time he jumps at one of the ghost enemies popping up.

He looks up, startled, when the front door opens, and Kaidou leaps to his feet as if he’s been caught doing something inappropriate. Easy win, he thinks, and turns his blood into a rotating buzzsaw, decapitating Bishamon with a cackle.

“Akaya, did you eat all the oyakodon?” his mother greets, then pauses, smiling. “Oh, hello. Are you a friend from school?”

“He’s a tennis friend, Mom,” Kirihara answers, and Kaidou bows gravely, like his mom is a priestess or something.

“Please excuse the interruption. Um...you have a lovely home.”

Miyu pokes her head around the doorframe, and blinks. “He’s not on Rikkai, is he?” she asks bluntly. “I’d have remembered him at your sports games.”

“You don’t say _sports games_ , they’re matches!” he corrects, for the thousandth time. His stupid older sister just smirks, and walks past into the kitchen.

“Ugh! Idiot! You ate all the oyakodon, didn’t you?”

“Let’s go up to my room,” Kirihara says with a groan, and Kaidou grimaces.

“Sorry. I should be going.” He casts a look outside, where it’s nearly full dark. “Didn’t realize how late it is.”

“I’ll get my mom to drive you,” Kirihara offers. “It’s dark, you shouldn’t run on the road.”

Kaidou snorts, unties his bandana, and reties it more tightly. “I always run at night. It’s fine.”

On the way out, Kirhara sees Kaidou’s gaze flick to the side, where one of Miyu’s polar bear stuffed animals sits, plump and vapid. As if he can’t quite help himself, Kaidou raises his hand, the back of one finger brushing over the fur. Then he masters himself, and makes for the door. In the genkan, he sits on the step to put on his shoes, then straightens up, and pauses. “...Thanks.”

“For what?” If they’d gone up to his room, Kaidou could _really_ thank him. He has a shitload of snacks and candy stashed up there, plus some manga he’s definitely not supposed to have.

“I didn’t think about him all night.”

Kirihara puts a hand on Kaidou’s wrist. There’s a stupid amount of muscle there, lean and dangerous, and Kaidou doesn’t pull away immediately. “What’s so good about him?” he presses again, fingers digging into the tanned skin.

Kaidou is rigid, silent, face set. After a long moment, he says, “He’s everything I’m lacking.”

As if that makes sense. As if that’s what friends are supposed to be.

Kirihara lets him go, because he can’t think of anything to say to that.


	3. Chapter 3

Kaidou doesn’t text him for a week. Kirihara texts a few times, then gives up and says the one thing he can think of to make Kaidou respond to him.

~

 **Kirihara: hey last night was fun!** [Read, 4:27pm Thurs]

 **Kirihara: u shud com over again** [Read, 5:14am Fri]

 **Kirihara: like not just when were stalking dum senpais lol** [Read, 7:54am Fri]

 **Kirihara: dont ignore me! i watched blade of teh immoral in english. it sucks. the acting sucks!** [Read, 11:55pm Sun]

 **Kirihara: wanna have a practice match? rikkai vs seigaku?** [Read, 4:28pm Tues]

Kaidou stares down at his phone, and wonders if this is worth the hassle. His team is doing well, responding enthusiastically to the training, but there’s a difference between firing them up and crushing their spirits too early. Plus, it could so easily backfire. What if he gives away all their data, their positions, their secret techniques?

“Yo, Kaidou-buchou.”

Echizen pops up behind him, unrepentantly grabbing his phone to peer at it before handing it back. “A practice match against Rikkai? Sounds fun.”

“Don’t just take other people’s phones!” Kaidou barks, snatching it out of Echizen’s hand.

“You text with Kirihara a lot?” One eyebrow raises, and Kaidou feels himself flushing under that oddly knowing, penetrating look. “He~eh. For such a meticulous guy, you sure like some messy people.”

“Look who’s talking,” Kaidou retorts. “Zaizen says Tooyama got in trouble for knocking a fruit vendor’s truck into a duck pond last week.”

If anything, Echizen’s face turns fond, if somewhat exhausted. “Yeah. That guy’s a menace. When are we playing Rikkai? I know you wouldn’t back down from a challenge, Kaidou-buchou.”

Someday, Kaidou is going to figure out whether Echizen knows just how breathy and _intentional_ he sounds when he says his upperclassman’s names.

**Kaidou: Ok. Saturday?**

**Kirihara: WAHOO. Gonna kick ur ass!!!!**

**Kirihara: yeh saturday works!!**

~

**Kirihara: ok they cleanin r courts sat, can we do it at ur palce?**

**Kaidou: Let me ask.**

**Kaidou: fine. 2pm sat.**

**Kirihara: thanks kaoru!**

**Kaidou: who said yu could call me that??**

**Kirihara: haha i 4got thats how ur in my phone**

**Kaidou: WHY**

**Kirihara: can i not?**

**Kaidou: it**

**Kaidou: no**

**Kirihara: aww D:**

**Kirihara: its a cute name!**

**Kaidou: shut the fuck up**

**Kirihara: I MEAN IT IM NOT TEASING**

**Kirihara: do u hate it that much?**

**Kaidou: no**

**Kaidou: it**

**Kaidou: fine itsf ine**

~

Kaidou tells himself it’s not _that_ different from the way Sanada always refers to him by his full name. Weird, kind of makes him feel like he’s in trouble from the teacher, but also makes him feel important and noticed, even if he’d never admit it. (To be fair, he also won’t admit how many times he’s touched himself to the image of Sanada shoving him to his knees at the top of that mountain, when the two of them were awake late at night with no one around. He’d thought for a few days it might happen, it could happen, but of course, like most of his fantasies, it had never come true, and he’d never felt those powerful hands in his hair.)

Sanada hadn’t meant anything by it. Kirihara doesn’t mean anything by it, either.

~

Kirihara watches, cursing and hissing in tension, as his team struggles through their practice matches. This should be easy by now, he’s supposed to be better than this. He watches Kaidou demolish Urayama, then goes up against Echizen himself.

Somehow, he manages to shake Kaidou’s hand at the end of it. “We’ll win the next one,” he says, and cannot wait to tell Yukimura how polite he’s being in the face of losing.

Kaidou grips his hand firmly. He’s breathing hard, as if his own match had been the last one. Kirihara understands. As Captain, it feels like his own successes and failures, when his team gets results. “We have to make this year count, right?”

**Yanagi: Well done, Akaya. I heard you conducted yourself with the utmost decorum.**

**Akaya: huh??? idk but i was polite!!!**

**Yanagi: Shall I pay you a visit? I have some ideas about Echizen’s current play style that may be of some use to you.**

**Akaya: UM YEH**

**Yanagi: Tomorrow, 8pm. Your house.**

~

It feels like old times. Yanagi is calm and measured with him, and some of that brimming, intense maturity he’d gained during the World tournament still feels cool and alien to Kirihara, but he’s still _Yanagi_. He still helps Kirihara with his homework, and dissects his game against Seigaku, giving him a long list of pointers and training suggestions.

Kirihara scowls at the page. “This isn’t like the regimen we had last year. Are these that Inui guy’s ideas?”

“Last year,” Yanagi says evenly, “we didn’t win. Inui’s team did.”

Kirihara shuts up and takes the paper.

~

The week before Rikkai meets Hyoutei in the Kantou tournament, Kaidou texts him.

**Kaoru: IMG294.jpg**

It’s a blurry cell phone shot of a tournament schedule, folded and unfolded many times, or just harshly. A local, low-stakes pro competition, and Kaidou or someone has circled the 4th pair to play Doubles.

_**Inui/Yanagi vs Oyama/Kudou** _

**Kaoru: tomorrw**

**Akaya: what time?**

**Kaoru: 13**

**Akaya: ok**

~

It feels weird to be this far away from the game. Kirihara can’t remember the last time he wasn’t at least in the first couple rows of spectators at a tennis game, instead of halfway up where he’s pretty sure Yanagi and Inui won’t see them. “Take off your bandana,” he reminds Kaidou as they sit down, and Kaidou hisses, then complies.

There aren’t that many people in the stands. It’s an over-13, one-day tournament, but the prize is just a trophy, some points on the Japanese circuit, and like five thousand yen. The points are what matters, of course, and Kirihara watches the ball, deadly serious in how it flicks through the air.

“I thought it’d be faster,” he complains. “More...crazy. Like the World’s.”

“That was different.” Kaidou’s eyes don’t track the ball, but stay locked on the players. At least, one player. “That was the best of the best. This is just whoever’s available.”

One of their opponents has a wickedly fast serve, but nothing too remarkable. Kirihara starts yawning three games in. Kaidou leans forward, forearms braced against his thighs, watching intently.

He looks different without the bandana on. Softer, Kirihara thinks vaguely. Less intense and ready for war. Kirihara looks at him for a minute, taking in the long lean musculature, the sculpted form, the tanned skin from thousands of hours of practice in the sun, the straight black hair falling onto his forehead. He takes a minute and imagines Kaidou transferring to Rikkai, and how easy they’d have it with two of them fired up like they get, with Kaidou’s powerful strength and gritted determination alongside his own.

“Hiyoshi would wet himself,” he mutters to himself in delighted satisfaction.

“Huh?” Kaidou doesn’t wrench his eyes away from the match.

“Eh, nothing. We have Hyoutei next week. You?”

“Midoriyama.”

Kirihara makes a face. “At least it’ll probably be us in the finals.”

“Don’t make plans before you make them happen.”

Kirihara pokes Kaidou in the thigh. “You’re gloomy,” he accuses. “If looking at him makes you sad, look at me.”

Kaidou’s gaze flicks to his, and he looks startled. Far more than Kirihara thinks makes sense, honestly. “I...what?”

Kirihara shrugs. “You’re making it weird. Quit acting like the girl he dumped.”

Another thing Niou would have said to Marui. Kirihara feels like when Niou says that stuff, everyone laughs.

Kaidou doesn’t laugh. He looks hurt, and turns his eyes back to the match, as if he’s unable to look away. “Fuck off.”

Kirihara tastes bile. He tries to remember thinking he was way better than Kaidou just because he’d crushed him at tennis. The feeling doesn’t come this time, and he just feels sort of sick.

The air is hot and muggy. Monsoon season hasn’t been over long, and moisture still hangs thick in the air. Kirihara feels a trickle of sweat run down between his shoulderblades. He wants to say something, anything to make Kaidou’s rigid posture relax, but nothing sounds quite right in his brain that he knows how to force his tongue to say.

Everything had been easier last year, when he’d had a goal. Shouldering the weight of responsibility isn’t quite as much fun as aiming for the top. Kaidou feels it too, but Kirihara thinks it might be different for him. Kaidou’s always carried himself as if there’s a heavy weight on him.

“Game, set, and match, Inui/Yanagi pair! Two sets to zero!”


	4. Chapter 4

Inui invites him over. Even now, after everything, Kaidou agrees.

Seigaku beats Midoriyama. That’s good. At least he’ll have some good news to share.

When he arrives at Inui’s place, though, tennis is the furthest thing from his mind. It’s less than two kilometers to Inui’s house, so Kaidou arrives before he even starts to sweat, feeling strangely nervous on the front stoop.

Inui answers the door, smiling behind his glasses. “Come in.”

And Kaidou knows.

He wants to run, wants to turn around and start running and never stop, running until his shoes are dyed red with his own blood and he can’t keep his head up anymore, run until no one can find him or talk to him or even see him. But he doesn’t. He walks in, takes off his shoes, sits on the edge of Inui’s bed, and lets Inui tell him it’s over.

There’s a numb ringing in his ears. He knows the words, anyway. It’s too difficult when they’re at different schools. Kaidou has enough on his plate. The coursework for high school is intense. Inui is playing in tournaments now, and having trouble finding time. Kaidou needs to focus on his own development.

Kaidou’s hand fists in the top blanket on Inui’s bed. He wonders if Yanagi’s careful fingers have ever clutched at it. He looks up at Inui’s face, his lips, and it seems unreal that he won’t get to feel them against his own again. Inui looks sad, but resigned.

Most of Kaidou wants to leap up and put as much distance between them as possible. He doesn’t. His legs won’t move. He just sits there, as Inui falters and runs out of things to say, beginning to repeat himself, assuring Kaidou that he deserves someone who can focus on him fully, that it’s for the best because Kaidou would have outgrown him soon anyway.

His ears buzz, as if his mind is trying to reject the sounds themselves. Finally, he speaks, asking gruffly, “Do I get a say in this?”

Inui’s smile is unreadable, but his eyes are kind behind his glasses. “I’m sorry, Kaidou.”

~

Kaidou runs.

He often does “roadwork” at night, wearing out a different pair of running shoes every month. Tonight, with Inui’s cold, gentle words echoing in his mind, he runs hard. He runs past his usual route, deliberately pushing, punishing his body, furious that somehow, he’d still let go of the things he wants.

There has to be a line in the sand somewhere. At some point, he’s got to find something he’ll fight for.

At some point, he hears the _thack_ of balls against racquet strings. Bitterly, he wonders what it would be like to be the kind of person who would give up his responsibilities and duties because of personal feelings. Like Momoshiro, leaving his regular jersey in the locker room. Like Echizen, on a plane to America when he hadn’t gotten his way. Like even Tezuka, headed for Germany when his goals had changed.

Not like him. Not like Kaidou Kaoru, who tends to the task in front of him with brutal determination, who blasts away whatever’s in his path without realizing it’s smarter to go around.

There’s a concrete barrier in his way, announcing road work ahead. Kaidou runs up to it, and without quite knowing what he’s doing, smashes his foot into the thick barricade. His body reverberates with the shock and pain, bones and joints alike screaming at him. He kicks it again, hears himself grunting, snarling, kicking and kicking, harsh breaths ripping their way out of his throat.

His foot throbs. He feels it dimly, if at all, through the odd red haze around his mind. The concrete barrier stands still and unmoved, undented or even rocked by his stupid, childish tantrum that had left him raw and hurting, sore and shaken.


	5. Chapter 5

Hiyoshi takes Kirihara to a tiebreak. Kirihara sends Hiyoshi to the hospital.

It wasn’t on _purpose_ or anything, he likes Hiyoshi. Shit just happens in tennis sometimes.

~

Sometimes Hiyoshi and Kaidou train together. Sort of. Neither of them like the kind of training the other does, but both of them are too stubborn to quit. Hiyoshi grumbles the whole time they run, then drills him in martial arts until his arms are trembling.

Kaidou figures out early on the trick to get Hiyoshi to spar with him. Usually, Hiyoshi is too committed to the sanctity of his family’s style to actually try against someone untrained. But if Kaidou pisses him off enough on their run, if he manages to lap him when they’re circling Hyoutei’s campus, he can usually get Hiyoshi to land a few hard blows before calling it quits and mumbling an apology.

It’s kind of like hanging out. It’s kind of like being friends.

Sometimes after, they talk, sort of. Hiyoshi tells him about his new rookie, an inconsistent genius that refuses to play singles. Kaidou talks around anything that hurts too much, and tells him about the practice match against Rikkai.

“You got Kirihara to agree?” Hiyoshi asks, startled.

Kaidou blinks. “It was his idea.”

Hiyoshi’s frown darkens. “He always turns me down. Fucker, looking down on me.”

“Bet he didn’t mean anything by it.” Men don’t mean anything by their actions. Kaidou tries to remember that. It’s harder when Hiyoshi’s thigh is pressed against his.

Hiyoshi grunts. “That’s worse.”

“...Yeah. It is.”

~

“Yo, is Kaidou okay?”

Kirihara looks up, confused, at Zaizen, standing next to the bench with a sports drink in his hand. “Huh?” he asks, taking it and twisting open the top.

“You guys hang out, right?” Zaizen asks, one eyebrow raised. “Hiyoshi said so.”

Zaizen knows everything, which is really dangerous for a guy who pretends to care about nothing. Kirihara drinks, frowning to himself. The heat is awful, though Zaizen is acting like he’s on vacation in Hokkaido, in Tokyo for an awards summit and stopping by for a little captain talk.

He shrugs. “I guess. He doesn’t usually answer my texts.”

“Huh.” Zaizen takes a swig from his own bottle, spinning his racquet with the other hand. “He hasn’t been answering mine, either. Wonder if he’s still dating that glasses guy.”

“Huh?” Kirihara knocks his bottle over, and the cap falls off, sports drink spilling onto the bench. He ignores it, staring at Zaizen. “What’d you say? Stand up, I’ll crush you!”

Zaizen looks at him blandly. “Dude. It’s not an insult. You know Kaidou’s gay, right?”

Kirihara glares daggers at him. “Is this an internet thing?” he demands. “A blog thing?”

“I’m not really sure how to answer that...”

“Even if--if he--that _Inui_ guy?” Kirihara squints, trying to imagine it. His imagination sort of hastily cobbles together a bad photoshop of Kaidou as the swooning maiden on the cover of a romance movie. He tries again, and his imagination informs him that this is not the sort of thing it’s used to being required to supply. Big buff guys, he’s very certain, do not date big buff guys. Inui sucks, but he’s like, tall and muscular and shit.

“What the _fuck_ is so great about that guy, anyway?” The words explode out of him, and he grabs his racquet, picking up the dribbling bottle of sports drink, draining the rest, and smashing it into the trash. “What the _fuck_ ever. Play me a game.”

“Gross, you’re in a mood now,” Zaizen complains, peeling himself away from the fence to head to the court. “Hey. If you give him shit for this, I’ll put that picture of you wearing a headband and practicing with your jersey on your shoulders in the mirror on my blog.”

“You--you said you deleted it! Because I gave you my ramen!”

“Yeah, that was a lie,” Zaizen says shamelessly. “I mean it.”

Kirihara stalks up to the net, his face a storm cloud. “Why’d he tell you and not me?”

“Probably because he thought you’d react weird. Fuck, I thought he told you, he told me and Hiyoshi. Smooth or rough?”

“Rough. React weird like how?”

“Smooth, my serve.” Zaizen shoulders his racquet, pockets a couple of balls, and heads to the back of the court. He pauses, then says, “You assumed it was an insult when I said it. That’s probably why he didn’t tell you.”

Kirihara tries to puzzle through that one, but then Zaizen serves, and thinking things through has to wait for another time.

~

 **Akaya: hey yu wanna come to the arcade?  
** **Kaoru: no  
** **Akaya: >(**

 **Akaya: u runnin out this way tonit? Ill bring my racquet.  
** **Kaoru: no**

**Akaya: i talked to Zaizen the other day. He**

Delete, delete, delete. Why is not being an asshole so fucking hard?

~

Fudomine is a struggle. They’ve improved a lot since last year. Kirihara watches, secure in his own victory over Yamabuki, eyes narrowed as he watches Kaidou land the definitive match point, deciding his matchup for the Kantou finals.

~

Inui had always touched him gently, even when Kaidou had wanted to beg him not to. He’d never quite been able to muster the words, certain every time that his data would betray him, and Inui would just _get it_ , and he wouldn’t ever have to say it out loud.

Maybe Inui wasn’t paying as close attention as he’d thought.

For weeks after Inui dumps him, he doesn’t touch himself. It feels wrong, to think about Inui that way now, but it’s the only reference he has for hands on his body, lips against his own, fingertips in his hair.

Then one night, unable to sleep, he finally opens his phone to answer Kirihara properly. In the dark, his finger swipes wrong, and he hears the call begin. Before he can hang up, he hears, “Hey! Kaoru?”

Kaidou licks his lips, and slowly brings the phone to his ear. “Hey.”

“Why are you calling? Is it, uh, something important?” Kirihara sounds excited. Kaidou wonders what he’s been doing that has him sounding like that, a little breathless, a lot eager.

“Nn. No. Just...sorry. I didn’t answer your texts.”

“Yeah, start answering them faster! No, forget that, I don’t care if you’re slow, just start saying yes instead of no all the time!”

Kaidou lets out a low hiss. Hiyoshi’s words echo in his ears. “Where are you now?”

“Huh? It’s after midnight, I’m at home in my room,” Kirihara says, and laughs. “You?”

“At home. In my room.”

“Are you in bed?”

Kaidou’s cock twitches, his hand stealing down without him meaning it to. “Y-yeah.”

Kirihara’s voice is silent for a moment, and Kaidou’s hand stills, his heart thudding. Had he somehow heard? Known? He hadn’t _meant_ to, it’s just that it’s been a while, and no one had told him how much harder it was to go without once he’s had someone touch him than it had been before--

“Me too.”

Kaidou exhales, a little louder than he means to. He can imagine it just fine, Kirihara on a western-style bed, the lights off. “If I come over again,” he says, voice rough, “this time we can go up to your room.”

“You should. It’s way better than downstairs.”

Kaidou wishes he could see Kirihara’s face. Is he imagining the strange, sudden tension between them? Is it just him, wanting so badly that he’s making things up again? Kirihara’s hot. It isn’t as if Kaidou hasn’t noticed before, during their games and practices, and it isn’t as if there’s a member of Room 205 he _hasn’t_ wished would kiss him. 

His hand presses against the bulge in his underwear, rubbing himself with the flat of his palm, just enough pressure to relieve the ache without providing any real pleasure. “How about tomorrow?” he asks, too horny to be smart.

“Yeah! Tomorrow’s good, my dad’s on a business trip and my sister’s at music camp.”

It’s so easy to imagine that Kirihara is thinking like he is, about having a private place with no parents or siblings so they can be a little noisy, not wanting to be interrupted while they grind against each other, seeing who’ll break first, who can make who come the hardest, who can tease the other the longest. “Sounds good,” he grunts, trying to keep his breathing even. “Dinner? Or after?”

“I’ll have Mom leave something. You like dumplings?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He’s not going for dumplings, he’s going because he’s aroused enough to imagine Kirihara wants to roll around with him. Maybe he’ll get lucky and brave, and Kirihara will let Kaidou blow him.

The mental image he conjures up there, of Kirihara’s hands in his hair, Kirihara’s cock nudging at his lips, makes him wrench the phone away from his ear for a moment, not wanting him to hear the whimper that comes from his throat. It feels like there’s a buzzing under his skin, heat traveling up from his cock to his nipples and down to his balls, making him ache with wanting. “I gotta go,” he rasps, and hangs up clumsily, turning over to stuff his hand into his shorts, making quick work of his throbbing erection, yanking it hard and fast until he groans his release into his pillow.

A few minutes later, when he gets up to hand-wash his shorts and his sheets, he notices his phone, half-covered by his futon, flipped to camera mode instead of shut off.

Ice water races through his veins. Had he shut off the call, then turned the camera on? He must have. The buttons are so close. The call _is_ inactive, he checks, and his heart eases a little bit.

He must have hung up properly. He _must_ have.

~

Kirihara’s finger hovers over Zaizen’s name in his phone. No, he doesn’t need _advice_ before having Kaidou over, that’s weird. It’s not like they didn’t have fun last time.

Bitterly, he misses the easy camaraderie of last year. Even if it sucked when Yukimura was in the hospital, at least they were all friends. At least he always had a lot of people to ask for advice. Hell, everyone would have given him advice whether he’d asked for it or not. Now everyone listens to him, but they don’t talk to him the same way.

For the first time, he wonders whether Yukimura had felt lonely sometimes, where no one could see him. But no, that’s stupid. Sanada never left him alone. His own Vice-captain, another third year named Fukui, fucks off when Kirihara tells him to fuck off. Usually, he likes that.

When Kaidou comes over, he seems tense, nervous, and closed-off. He twitches whenever Kirihara touches him, even bumps against him, and barely eats. There’s something jumpy and guilty about him, and it makes Kirihara kind of nervous in turn.

“You, uh, wanna see my room?” he finally asks, as a way to break the uncomfortable silence.

There’s something strange and unreadable in Kaidou’s eyes, but he nods. Kirihara’s not sure what the fuck is going on, but he leads the way up to his room, pushing open the door and saying, “Sorry, it’s kinda messy. But my Xbox is in here, and I have some spicy chips in the closet.”

Kaidou’s eyes sweep around the room. “It’s good,” he mutters, and Kirihara relaxes a little. Kaidou was kind of a dick about cleanliness at U-17.

He sits on the bed, boots up the Xbox, and passes Kaidou the second controller. “Dead or Alive 5? Or Guilty Gear X?”

Kaidou stares at him for a moment, then set the controller down. “You play one. I’ll watch you.”

Kirihara looks at him for a moment, then shrugs and pulls up Guilty Gear. “I can get really far on this one,” he brags, and pulls up a save.

It sounds kind of weird, having Kaidou just sit there watching him while he plays. But at the arcade, younger kids watch him a lot, when they can’t afford to play anymore but still want to experience the games, and he often switches with Marui and Jackal, each of them taking a turn on the newest machines. He gets into the rhythm of it before long, cursing and spitting at his TV, and by the time he drives Chipp Zanuff’s arm blades through the boss’s head, Kaidou is making little enthusiastic noises, cheering him on even if he obviously doesn’t understand the game very well.

The level ends to triumphant music, and Kirihara turns to grin at Kaidou. He’s flushed and eager now, looking less tense and weird, and Kirihara suddenly remembers how he’d sounded on the phone the night before, and everything Zaizen had said, and the way Kaidou had blushed at him that one time they ate oyakodon. For a weird, scary, exciting second, Kirihara thinks about what would happen if he, like, grabbed Kaidou by the front of his shirt and kissed him, or something.

_“I wonder if he’s still dating that glasses guy.”_

The nervous heat in his stomach sours immediately at that thought, and Kirihara turns away, just as Kaidou starts to catch his eye, just as his face starts to change, picking up on the mood shift.

Kirihara clicks _next_ , and enters the next level. “Yanagi-senpai saw us at that tournament,” he says, viciously beheading an opponent, using a move that costs far too much just to see the blood spray. “He invited me to their next doubles tournament.”

“...Go if you want. I’m not going.”

Kirihara jams his fingers against the buttons. Who cares if he has to buy another new controller again soon? “You don’t want to watch that Inui guy anymore?” he asks, and his own voice sounds weird to him.

The bed shifts as Kaidou stands up. “Thanks for the food,” he growls, and before Kirihara can say anything else, he’s out the door and down the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Akaya: Yanagi-senpai i need help**

**Yanagi: 20% chance this is about your English homework. 69% chance this is about your matchup against Seigaku. 11% chance this is about a girl.**

**Akaya: Tennis >(**

**Yanagi: Follow the training plan I set out for you.**

**Akaya: Yukimura-buchou i need help**

**Yukimura: Want me to come whip your team into shape before finals? www**

**Akaya: ULL SCARE THEM**

**Yukimura: W W W**

**Akaya: UR SCARIN ME**

**Akaya: Jackal-senpai can u give me advice**

**Jackal: Sure!**

**Akaya: how do u never give up even if the match is really freaky**

**Jackal: i have four lungs ;)**

**Akaya: U SAID THAT WAS JUST A MYTH**

**Akaya: Sanada-fukubuchou...just say it alredy.**

**Sanada: TARUNDORU**

**Akaya: yeh...**

**Akaya: Marui-senpai ur the only one who can help me**

**Marui: THANK you. I AM a genius.**

**Akaya: how do u make sure your whole team fights the hardest ever?**

**Marui: ...**

**Marui: i would make Jackal do it**

**Akaya: Yagyuu-senpai hey**

**Yagyuu: How did you get this number?**

**Akaya: Yanagi-senpai gave it to me! u sed ud help me with english!**

**Yagyuu: And have you been practicing your English?**

**Akaya: uhhh i gotta go**

**Akaya: Niou-senpai...**

**Niou: Puracchiko**

**Akaya: is that a new one i hate it**

**Niou: Puracchikochikubani**

**Akaya: >(**

**Niou: Look in your left pocket**

**Akaya: ...HOW?????**

**Niou: Pupina**

Finally, exhausted, annoyed with himself for putting it off for so long, he texts one more person, the night before the finals.

**Akaya: so...IS he?**

**Zaizen: is who what**

**Akaya: still. u kno.**

**Zaizen: gimme something to work with here lmao i have no idea what you’re saying**

**Akaya: the guy. Kaidou. r they...still**

**Zaizen: ...why u wanna know?**

**Akaya: finals tomrorow!**

**Zaizen: you gonna go easy on him either way?**

**Akaya: NO**

**Akaya: NO WAY**

**Akaya: DUH**

**Zaizen: then does it matter?**

**Akaya: YES**

**Zaizen: why?**

**Akaya: BC I WANNA KNO IF HES FEELING BAD**

**Akaya: hes my friend!**

**Zaizen: ...fine let me do some poking. You owe me.**

~

“Yo, Kaidou-buchou.”

Kaidou doesn’t look up, the needle carefully darting in and out, seeking out the vertical threads and stitching them together across the small rip in Momoshiro’s uniform. He grunts. “What, Echizen?”

Echizen sits on the bench next to him. His legs don’t swing on this one anymore. He’s nearly as tall as Kaidou, now, and the thought of his new Lightning Serve in tomorrow’s match makes Kaidou’s heart thud with eagerness. “Think any of last year’s seniors will come watch the match tomorrow?”

Kaidou shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe Taka-senpai.”

“Isn’t Inui-senpai coming to see you play?”

The needle jabs into the pad of his finger, and Kaidou wrenches it away, not wanting to get blood on the white fabric. He hisses, sucking the finger into his mouth, and glares at Echizen. “Why would he?”

The look Echizen shoots him is lazy, amused, and bored all at once. “So you guys broke up, huh?”

“Mind your own business or run laps,” Kaidou growls, and ties off the stitching with a swift, vicious knot, folding the jersey and setting it in front of Momoshiro’s locker. Seigaku _has_ to look put-together for the finals.

He heads for the shower, and a minute later, Kaidou overhears Echizen say quietly into his phone, “Yeah, not anymore. Tell him to delete that picture. And make sure he does it. You can break his phone if you want, I dunno. Hit it with a tennis ball and I’ll take you out for takoyaki.”

~

**Zaizen: your way is clear**

**Akaya: ? wats that mean**

**Zaizen: you got no competition**

**Akaya: r they droppin out of the tournament????**

**Akaya: why????**

**Zaizen: no...no, you numbskull**

**Zaizen: Kaidou isn’t dating that guy anymore**

**Zaizen: so you can ask him out**

**Akaya: ???????????? ?????? ?**

**Zaizen: ok be in denial then but you still owe me**

**Akaya: wat u want**

**Zaizen: you cost me a good blackmail photo of Echizen. Get me another one. lol.**

**Akaya: how?**

**Zaizen: not my problem.**

**Akaya: I can get u one of Kaidou?**

**Zaizen: that’s easy lol i got a thousand of those**

**Zaizen: Echizen.**

**Akaya: ugh ill try!!!**

**Zaizen: chill**

**Zaizen: see u at semifinals.**

**Zaizen: good luck lmao**

~

**Kirihara: hey**

Kaidou stares at the notification until it disappears from his lock screen. He swallows. If he ignores Kirihara, he might make it weird at the finals tomorrow.

**Kaidou: hey**

**Kirihara: did i do something wrong the other day?**

**Kaidou: huh?**

**Kirihara: u were actin weird all nite.**

Kaidou leans back against the wall, head knocking it with a _thump_. From the other side, Hazue knocks his elbow against it, an annoyed warning to shut up.

**Kaidou: finals. tension.**

**Kirihara: ok. good.**

**Kaidou: sorry.**

**Kirihara: its fine.**

How did they get like this? It’s awkward now, and they both sound like girls. Kaidou lets out a low hiss between his teeth. He wants desperately to go running, but they have a huge match the next day, and that’s not responsible captain behavior.

A few minutes of lying on his futon, staring up at the dark ceiling, lets him know that sleep isn’t going to happen, either. Might as well get some exercise out of it. He gets up, grabs his running clothes, and hits the road, responsible captain behavior be damned.

His thoughts turn to Tezuka, piling more work onto Kaidou, certain this would make him a better captain. Kaidou isn’t sure if it worked. He works harder than everyone else, always has, but that doesn’t mean he gets what he wants any more than anyone else does. It just means most things are harder for him, in the end. What most men could accomplish in an hour takes him two, so he trains for three out of spite. He’d been far more confident, once. Before Echizen had come to Seigaku and disrupted everything, he’d known his place, known his rankings, and been certain of what he could overcome.

He’s been broken down so many times since then. Humiliated, beaten, insulted, tossed aside. Each time, he’s certain it’s made him stronger, but it also makes him tired. Still, he keeps going. If anything, he can’t look weak in front of his vice-captain. Showing weakness is the fastest way to lose his team’s respect and trust.

Streets and streetlights blur in front of his eyes. His feet pound against the pavement. It doesn’t matter. You can be born a genius and be beaten by someone who works hard, or you can work your ass off and be beaten by a genius who works hard. Kaidou wasn’t born a genius. Sometimes, geniuses kick his ass. Sometimes, he kicks their teeth in with sheer determination and luck. Maybe that’s all he can expect. Fine.

At some point in his circuit, passing an old shrine on a small hill, he hears the _thwack_ of tennis balls, a few grunts of effort, and knows he’s not the only member of Seigaku who can’t sleep. He gives Echizen’s house a wide berth, not wanting to interrupt his focus, and runs harder.

When he gets home, Hazue is up, standing bleary-eyed in the kitchen, filling a glass. He gives Kaidou a suspicious look. “It’s _really_ late, nii-san,” he says skeptically.

“Went on a run.” Kaidou unties his shoes, setting them neatly on a shelf in the genkan. “Go back to bed.”

“You’ll win tomorrow for sure.” Hazue sounds very certain of this. “Don’t worry. No one works harder than a Kaidou.”

Kaidou tousles his kid brother’s hair, then gives him a shove back to his own room. “Don’t be so nice, brat.”

Hard work isn’t its own reward. The reward for hard work is just more work.


	7. Chapter 7

“Why’d you give me Singles One?”

Kaidou looks up at Echizen from the bench, his leg jiggling in anticipation before his own match. Echizen is backlit, a slender figure that looks more like his brother every day, the cocky set to his chin emphasizing it. “You know why,” Kaidou grunts. “You’re the pillar of support. He trusted you with that.”

“Ehhh....” Echizen shrugs a shoulder, and looks back over his shoulder at Rikkai, filing into their position to riotous cheers. “But you wanted to play that guy, right?”

Kaidou bends, untying and retying his shoes. “I want Seigaku to win.”

~

**Uza-Uza: Good Luck!**

**Akaya: THANK YUO I GO**

~

Kaidou watches, gripping the edge of the bench. Two matches to two. Momoshiro and his new doubles partner had taken their game, and Rikkai had taken Doubles Two. Kirihara’s vice-captain, Fukui, had crushed Arai in Singles Three. Kaidou had, in turn, beaten Urayama 6-2 in Singles Two.

Echizen and Kirihara, he has to admit, are both really beautiful when they play seriously. Both of them do from the beginning, leaving everything of themselves behind, holding nothing back. Kaidou hears the cheers of the crowd, and feels his heart in his throat for the entire long, extended match.

1-0, Rikkai

1-1

2-1 Rikkai

3-2 Rikkai

3-3

4-3 Rikkai

4-4

4-5 Seigaku

5-5

6-5 Rikkai

6-6

The tiebreak begins, and Kaidou can hardly watch them. Every time he looks up, he expects to see Kirihara’s eyes red and strained and bulging, hear that maniacal laugh, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he’s a mirror of Echizen, both of them so deep in the zone of self-actualization that they move without thinking.

It’s beautiful.

Kaidou’s pulse pounds. He wants to tell them to call it off, just call it a draw, they’ll meet in the Nationals anyway. His lips are dry, throat hoarse from screaming.

Behind Kirihara, Kaidou sees Rikkai’s graduated seniors in the stand, everyone who had pushed Seigaku so hard last year, gripping each other, yelling, cheering, watching intently. He knows some of his own seniors are here, too, but doesn’t dare look away from the match to find them in the crowd. This isn’t his seniors’ match, anymore. It’s his, and Echizen’s, and Kirihara’s.

The final point is a brutal thing, leaving both young men on the ground, unable to stand, exuding a weird, coarse laughter as the ball thuds drunkenly against the net, hit by an arm that can’t move anymore.

“Game and match, 67 to 65! Won by Seigaku’s Echizen!”

Kaidou rushes onto the court with the rest of the team, lifting Eichizen’s too-light form, his own face split in ragged joy. “You did it,” he growls. “You won. We won.”

Echizen’s face tips back, a beatific smile on it as Kaidou carries him off to the medics. “Yeah. I don’t lose,” he says, and sounds like a rag that’s been wrung out a few dozen times. “Hey. Kaidou-buchou.”

“Yeah?”

“At Nationals. _You_ play him. He’s way too much work,” Echizen says, and lets his eyes roll back into his head.

~

Kaidou will.

He’ll have to.

He sends Kirihara one text, that’s all.

**Kaidou: We can talk again after nats. need to focus. you were great.**

Kirihara texts him back, several times. When Kaidou doesn’t respond, the texts eventually stop.

Besides, there’s training to focus on.

~

Kirihara sends shot after shot back at the machine, then collects all of the balls and does it again. At some point, his palms start bleeding, blisters forming, then ripping open against the brutal twist of the racquet against his hands.

This can’t be it.

This can’t be as far as he can go.

He loads up the machine again.

The crown can’t be gone forever. Not when he’s _just_ gotten here. He can’t be that cursed. He’s going to be number one, after all.

The machine puffs on empty, so he collects the balls and loads it again.

He just has to rearrange. Put someone who doesn’t matter up against Echizen, throw the match away, save his best players for human, beatable players.

Somehow, the stupid machine is empty again. Doesn’t it know he’s filling in a hundred and fifty balls each time?

Yukimura had looked almost relieved when he’d lost. That makes Kirihara’s stomach turn to think about, even if it makes sense. There’s still a shred of doubt in even Yukimura’s eyes when he talks about Echizen, even after he’s spent the last year in the pro circuit.

So really, everyone had expected him to lose.

Everyone, he realizes, standing up straight when the machine puffs empty again, except Kaidou. Kirihara had seen him staring, eyes wide, following every shot. His memories of the actual match are vague, hazy, and jerky, as if they’d happened to someone else, but he remembers Kaidou’s eyes, locked onto him.

Kirihara blinks at the darkness. When had it gotten dark? He’d come out first thing in the morning, hadn’t he? He fumbles for his phone in his pocket, absently wiping away a blood smear.

Nothing from Kaidou. Not since that first morning after. Which is fine. They’re not _friends_ or anything. Not really. They’re rivals, at the end of the day, one of them sworn to crush the other.

**Akaya: next year u shud cum to rikkai.**

**Akaya: cmon id be a fun captain**

It isn’t even worth a shot. Kaidou hasn’t responded to any of his texts in days. Kaidou has never shown the slightest interest in transferring, let alone to Rikkai University. It just...sounds kind of nice, to be at the same school, and not be rivals. It sounds like fun. They could be like Yukimura and Sanada, and he could have a vice-captain who would smack everyone around for him so he wouldn’t have to, he could just focus on making sure his jersey doesn’t fall off his shoulders and winning at tennis.

Yeah. That sounds like the life.


	8. Chapter 8

Kaidou keeps his word to himself, and doesn’t text Kirihara again. The days roll by, Nationals approaching far too fast. Soon, most of his spare time is concerned with Momoshiro suddenly performing like crap, only to have Echizen turn up and tell everyone that he’s been secretly seeing a girl, staying out late every night.

Kaidou grabs him by the collar, drags him into the locker room, and shuts the door. “You want us to lose Nationals?” he demands, and thinks his eyes might be open a little too wide, his voice a little too loud, from the way Momoshiro holds up his hands, laughing nervously.

“No, no! I swear, it’s fine, it was only a couple of practices I was late to--“

“Break up with her.”

“Ehhh? I’m not gonna do that!” Momoshiro grins at him, as if he’s fucking joking. “Mari-chan is totally cute. And she’s got a friend, I can ask if she’d want to bring her out with both of us, huh? Double date?”

The way Momoshiro says it--as if it’s the ultimate bribe, the thing he’s been holding in reserve--is the final straw. Jealousy, anger, frustration, and nerves all spike at once, and then they’re fighting, slamming each other against the lockers, fists flying against chests and arms and stomachs. He’s pretty sure they’re snarling _idiot_ and _lunatic_ at each other, and probably some more hurtful things, too, but in the end, they’re still the two of them, panting and bruised, glaring at each other through puffy eyes.

Kaidou points a finger at Momoshiro’s face. “If I find out you see her even once before Nationals, you’re off the team,” he snarls.

Momoshiro glares at him balefully. “Because you can’t get laid, none of us get to?” he demands.

“You wanna go again, bastard?”

“Any time, Viper!”

He never gets a promise out of Momo. But some of the lingering, sickening tension that’s been following him since the Kantou finals finally washes away.

On his run that night, he hears a familiar sound, and pauses outside of an arcade. There’s some elementary schooler up past his bedtime, playing what Kaidou recognizes as one of the games Kirihara had shown him. He watches, jogging in place, for a good five minutes before the kid runs out of coins and moves on. On a whim, Kaidou checks his own pockets, but only turns up a few bandages and his Suica card.

Maybe next time, he thinks fondly, and runs on through the night.

~

Kirihara has his first sex dream about Kaidou the night before his match with Higa.

It’s not weird and clinical like the dreams he’s had about Yanagi, or confusing and embarrassing like the ones he’s had about Marui, or that one time he had one about Yukimura and Sanada pushing him around, woke up sticky, and hadn’t been able to look either of them in the eye for almost a week. That had just been...weird.

This, though. This is kind of nice.

In his dream, Kaidou grabs eagerly at him, and his eyes are intense and hungry, and Kirihara feels utterly seen and wanted. They’re in his room, and Kaidou is wearing a pirate hat, and once he wakes up, Kirihara isn’t quite sure what they’d done, only that it had been _awesome_ and Kaidou’s mouth had tasted like blood.

~

Kaidou _feels_ the match before he gets to the court. He’d been late, trying to track down where the fuck Momoshiro has run off to now, but the crowd’s roar is startling. Energy shifts, rippling through the cheering sections before he gets down to the stands, and stares in something almost like horror at the scoreboard.

“They’re back,” he hears whispered through the audience. “Rikkai is back. It’s like two years ago again.”

6-0.

6-0.

6-0.

A complete shutout.

Kirihara stands on the court, looking energized, hardly sweating as he extends his hand, shaking with some Okinawan kid Kaidou doesn’t recognize. The kid is fast, judging by how he nimbly dodges their coach’s attempted kick, but Kaidou’s eyes are locked onto Kirihara. He stands tall, eyes shining with the cheers, and his face turns, catching Kaidou’s eyes.

As if in unison, both of them nod slightly.

_I’m coming for you._

_I’ll be ready for you._

~

Seigaku meets Fudomine, and nearly comes to an end right there. Fudomine makes them sweat and grind for every point, and more than once, Kaidou is certain this is where it ends.

Echizen makes him a promise that day. “I’ll win every Singles One match,” he says, almost offhand. “As long as you take it in the finals.”

“You just don’t want to play against Kirihara,” Kaidou mutters, shoving Echizen’s back to launch him onto the court.

Echizen shrugs one shoulder slowly, rotating it. “Don’t lose before you get to my turn, and you’ll find out.”

~

The semifinals come down to the four of them, and it feels like destiny. Kaidou can’t stop looking at his phone the night before, and sure enough, a message pops up.

**[205] Zaizen: Yakiniku**

**[205] Hiyoshi: You asking?**

**[205] Zaizen: no. it’s obvious.**

**[205] Kirihara: our teams or?**

**[205] Zaizen: oh god, no. Just the four of us.**

**[205] Hiyoshi: ...good plan.**

**[205] Kirihara: where?**

**[205] Zaizen: Yaze-gaya. 1-13-10. Tokyo.**

**[205] Hiyoshi: When?**

**[205] Zaizen: 7.**

**[205] Kirihara: shud we wait to hear from K?**

**[205] Zaizen: he’ll come.**

“Where are you going, Nii-san?”

“Dinner.”

“Can I--“

“No.”

~

Zaizen is the only one there when Kaidou shows up, sliding into the booth across from him as Zaizen taps on his phone with ridiculous speed. “Yo,” he says, not looking up. “I knew you’d be first.”

Kaidou grunts. “Sorry about tomorrow. Kirihara’s unstoppable.”

Zaizen makes a face, and finally puts his phone away. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“You sound like Echizen.”

“Speaking of a lot of work, sup, Hiyoshi?”

Hiyoshi looks between them for a moment, then slides into the seat next to Zaizen. “Hey. We order yet?”

“Waiting on Kirihara.”

Hiyoshi gives Kaidou a nod. “Sorry about tomorrow,” he says, unconsciously echoing Kaidou’s own words, and he pulls out a laquered set of chopsticks from his bag, setting them and a personalized chopstick stand on the table.

Kaidou snorts. “Sorry yourself. Best Four is as far as you go.”

Hiyoshi opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it when Kirihara shows up, plunking himself into the seat next to Kaidou. “Hey!”

A chorus of grunts greets him. Kirihara looks sort of sparkly, Kaidou thinks. As if all of the grit and rust of Rikkai had been shaved cruelly away, leaving behind only what shines brightest, and a lean determination to hold it all together. Kaidou expects trash talk from him most of all, but Kirihara just grins. “Should we order? I’m _starving_.”

Zaizen pushes the button to summon the server. All of them manage to scrounge up enough cash to afford the all-you-can eat. Kaidou pays with three neat 1,000 yen bills, and gets change. Zaizen hands over two 1,000s, a 500 yen coin, and a 100 yen coin. Hiyoshi gets change for a 10,000. Kirihara pays with one 500 and an enormous pile of smaller coins.

The meat comes out, and for a while, talk of semifinals fades into the background of pleasant searing noises and the sizzle of vegetables. Kaidou misses the boisterous company of last year, while at the same time can’t quite manage to miss all the screaming and Penal-tea and sabotage.

“So,” Hiyoshi says, breaking the silence of chewing after they’ve gone through the first dozen trays. “Think we’ll all get invited back to U-17 and the Worlds this year?”

“I’m gonna be on the National Team again,” Kirihara says immediately. “No matter what it takes.”

“I’m gonna get on this year,” Kaidou agrees gravely. “I bet it’ll be harder this time. But we know what to expect.”

“Yeah, not to trust the goddamn coaches,” Hiyoshi growls. “We should make a pact. That all four of us will get on.”

Zaizen shakes his head. “Gross. I haven’t even decided if I’ll go this year.”

“You will,” Kaidou grunts.

“We should see if they’ll let us room together again,” Kirihara suggests, stuffing pork belly into his mouth.

Hiyoshi lets out a skeptical noise. “You’re loud, though.”

“My mom says I have a lot to say!”

Zaizen snorts, almost choking on a mushroom. “I just bet she does.”

“Let’s all try to get on the team this year,” Kirihara insists. “It’s going to be way better if we do it together.”

Hiyoshi rolls his eyes. “Big talk from the one of us who actually got on the team.”

Kaidou grunts, and swallows a bite of meat. “No point aiming low. That’s why we’re going to crush you tomorrow.”

“You really think so?” Hiyoshi growls.

Kirihara’s eyes meet Kaidou’s, and there’s a moment of tension, something very clear, something unreadable between them. “Seigaku will beat you guys,” he says firmly, eyes still locked on Kaidou’s. “Because he’s got to face me.”

Kaidou’s mouth is dry. He takes a swig of soda. It doesn’t help. “Yeah,” he finally says, but speaking doesn’t seem to break the spell, only intensifying the energy arcing between the two of them. “It’s got to end that way.”

“Get a room,” Zaizen says with a sigh, and both of them throw a piece of meat at him.

On the way out, Kaidou sees a flurry of movement out of the side of his vision, and turns to see Momoshiro Takeshi, attempting to hide behind a single-page menu, sitting across from a girl. “Is he gone?” Momoshiro asks, in a whisper that Kaidou can easily hear.

“Um, no,” she answers, in a nervous voice. “He’s, um, staring at us? The one in the bandana, right?”

Slowly, Momoshiro lowers the menu. He looks at Kaidou, then the other three Captains, and blows out a slow breath. “Well, fuck.”


	9. Chapter 9

Defeating Hyoutei would be easier with Momoshiro on the team. Kaidou doesn’t make decisions based on what’s easy.

Echizen glares balefully at him. “Am I gonna have to play Hiyoshi now?” he complains. “I’ve already beaten him.”

“Don’t look down on Hiyoshi. He’s gotten better.”

Echizen shrugs. “Not as much as I have,” he says, and Kaidou hisses, because it’s true.

“He’s going to be in Singles 1,” Kaidou says, and gives Echizen a direct look. “You want that spot, or not? Singles two is their new rookie. You might like playing him.”

Echizen clicks his tongue against his teeth. “I made a promise,” he mutters. “But you wanna play him, right?”

“...Kind of.”

“Then don’t lose.”

~

Kaidou doesn’t lose.

He doesn’t get to play.

They lose Doubles 2, but take Doubles 1, Singles 3, and Echizen finishes off Singles 2 easily, taking care of Hiyoshi’s new rookie with a cocky tilt of his head. Hiyoshi looks mad enough to break a racquet in half, but shakes Kaidou’s hand. “Next time,” he promises.

“Keep working,” Kaidou responds, and they both try to squeeze the other’s hand to powder.

~

“It’s a good match.”

Momoshiro’s voice doesn’t surprise him, coming from just next to his ear as he stares down at the court. Rikkai versus Shitenhouji, and Kaidou has to admit, Zaizen’s team is doing better than he’d expected. “Rikkai’s going to win.”

“Hey, you never know. They might bench their star player or something, and then what would happen?”

“We won without you just fine.”

“Hyoutei isn’t _Rikkai_. C’mon, you know you want me there.”

“That doesn’t sound,” Kaidou grinds out, “like an apology to your Captain at all.”

The referee calls the game--Doubles 1, Shitenhouji. Kirihara looks like a statue, eyes coldly glittering, focused entirely on Shitenhouji’s bench. To Kaidou’s surprise, Zaizen stands for Singles 3, sauntering in to face Urayama. Like his old Captain, Kaidou supposes. Making sure they get to Singles 1.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Momoshiro finally bursts out, as Zaizen sets about methodically analyzing all of Urayama’s weak points and attacking them mercilessly. “But you’re being a real dick about it. Tezuka-buchou never cared if we messed around with girls.”

Kaidou turns to stare at him, incredulous. “When did you _ever_ hear Tezuka-buchou say it was fine to mess around with girls?”

“Well! I just mean, I never heard him yell about it!”

“All of our senpais last year knew better than to do that kind of thing during a tournament,” Kaidou protests, aghast at this idiot he calls a vice-captain.

Momoshiro scowls. “I don’t think that was it. They just kept it a secret, you know?”

“You fail at that, too.” Kaidou folds his arms over his chest, watching the match come to an end. There are lots more points left on the table, but as far as he’s concerned, Urayama doesn’t stand a chance. “Finals is only a week away. Keep it in your pants that long, and you can play.”

Momoshiro lets out a huge sigh. “Thanks. I mean, thanks, Captain.” He turns to face the match, and says in a low voice, “I want Kirihara.”

“No.”

“But--“

“He’s mine.”

As if they’d somehow been heard fifty yards away and over the roar of the crowd, Kirihara turns, and Kaidou feels the little jolt when their eyes meet.

~

It’s difficult not to believe in destiny. Everything tells Kirihara that he’s destined to meet Kaidou in the finals. He believes it, so strongly he nearly misses when the battle changes, and Urayama launches into his new secret counter-attack, leaving Zaizen startled and taken off-guard.

“Game and match! Won by Rikkai’s Urayama!”

“You’re not the only one who learned some things last fall, Zaizen,” Kirihara whispers.

“What, Captain?”

Kirihara shoves Fukui in the back. “Nothing. Get out there and win.” _So I don’t have to play Singles 1_ , he doesn’t say. A part of him itches for that match, knowing they’ve got Tooyama in Singles 1. If it were any other match, any other time, he’d love to let loose on that wild child and see who came out on top, see who left the other in a bleeding heap on the courts. It sounds like something fun to do in Singles 2, but not when Rikkai’s crown is on the line.

“Ya, Akaya.”

Kirihara’s head whips around, and he feels himself beam when Yukimura makes his way to the bench, wearing a white polo shirt with his sponsor’s logo on it and a pristine headband. He smiles, and holds up a small paper fan-- ** _Always Glorious, Always Victorious_** , it reads. “Interesting lineup. Good job, Shita-kun.”

Urayama runs back towards the bench, looking utterly exhausted with the effort of his match. “I did it, Captain! Just like you said! Ahhh! Yukimura-buchou! Er, Dai-buchou!”

“That’s not a thing,” Kirihara complains, though he pats the kid on the shoulder. “Good job, but _I’m_ your Captain, he’s not!”

“Nope,” Yukimura agrees cheerfully. “Just a wandering tennis player looking in on his cute kouhai. You ready for the finals?”

Kirihara turns, feeling the threads of destiny pluck at him for some reason. He spots the green bandana at once, and locks eyes with Kaidou, across the stadium and what feels like a thousand kilometers. “I will be.”

~

**Inui: You really have come a long way, Kaidou.**

**Inui: No need to respond to this. I know it’s awkward. Hopefully it means something to you that I think you’ve done wonderfully. Good luck at Nationals this weekend.**

~

It seems like a thousand years ago that Kaidou had tailed Inui for hours, pretending he was jogging around the same court five times, watching Inui hit a neverending rally with Yanagi. Somehow, it also seems like yesterday that Inui had kissed him for the first time, had taught him how it felt to be in someone else’s hands, how much his body could feel all at once.

It’s taken over a month, but he’s able to touch himself without immediately thinking of Inui. It’s a devil’s bargain, though. Every time his thoughts stray to Inui’s large hands, he shoves them to the side as far as he can. That does mean that what they get replaced with is a crapshoot. The first time, he winds up stroking himself to the thought of Momoshiro punching him in the face, which is...somewhat concerning, but it’s not the first time, either. The next time, it’s Echizen, sneaking up on him from behind, breathing his name in that slutty tone, sliding insistent hands under his shirt to torment his nipples. That’s...kind of a nice one, and he uses it a few times, embarrassing as it is.

More often than not, after Finals are decided, his thoughts stray to Kirihara’s burning, glittering eyes.

~

The night before finals, Kirihara can’t sleep.

His arms thrum and tremble from practice. His hair is still wet from the bath. He lays, staring at the ceiling, going over his lineup time and time again, as if one more time will make it right, as if he’s forgotten the one thing that will make it foolproof. Nothing is foolproof when it comes to tennis, though.

**Yanagi: Good luck tomorrow, Akaya.**

The text blinks at him. Kirihara scowls. Maybe the best thing about this finally being over is that Kaidou will start talking to him again. After Nationals, that’s what he’d said. Kirihara isn’t sure when that started mattering so much to him.

~

Kaidou stares up at his ceiling. Hazue’s music thumps softly on the other side of the wall. Seconds tick by. Random things keep occurring to him--does he have his grip tape? Are his shoes clean? Are his bandanas pressed? Yes, yes, yes. He has everything.

Everything except the ability to sleep.

Another run doesn’t help. He winds up right back in his futon, wet from yet another shower, staring at the same ceiling. Hazue’s music has stopped. With a sigh, he reaches into his shorts, not aroused yet, but willing to give it a shot if it means he’ll be able to sleep afterwards.

~

“Fuck this,” Kirihara mutters to himself, and pulls out his phone, calling **Kaoru**.

He’s sure Kaidou won’t answer. He’d been clear, after all. But after a few rings, the phone clicks, and he hears a husky, heavy voice ask, “What?”

Kirihara’s breath quickens. “Hey, Kaoru. I thought...you wouldn’t pick up.”

“...Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either.” Kirihara swallows, pulling out a tennis ball and tossing it idly into the air with the hand not holding the phone, catching it and tossing it again. “Were you working out?”

“No. I’m in bed.”

“You sound out of breath.”

There’s a pause. “I...”

Kirihara’s mind catches up too late, and he bites his lip. Shit. Was he? _Was_ he? He can imagine it, suddenly, when his mind has struggled to imagine Kaidou in such situations before. He can easily picture Kaidou spread out on a futon (he hasn’t asked, but he knows instinctually that Kaidou sleeps traditionally), his hand between his thighs, cheeks flushed with pleasure. The image makes his own cock twitch for some reason, and he catches the ball, stashing it to the side. “Were you?” he asks boldly, startling even himself.

There’s a longer pause. He hears Kaidou swallow. Then there’s a hiss, and Kaidou mutters, “Yeah.”

Kirihara hears his pulse in his throat. Everything feels very exciting and strange and new all of a sudden, as if every motion brings with it the crackle of electricity. “I’m gonna, too.”

Kaidou sucks in a breath. Kirihara licks his lips, and slides his hand down into his shorts, letting out a sigh when it curls around his rapidly hardening cock. “Nn. I haven’t in a couple days.”

“M-me either.”

Kirihara strains to listen, and sure enough, he can just barely pick up the sound of skin and cloth rustling rhythmically against each other. “Fuck yeah,” he mutters. “This is so hot, Kaoru.”

He hears Kaidou let out a soft moan, and nearly comes. “You--saying it like that,” Kaidou growls out. “Thought you were gonna do this when I came to your house last time.”

Kirihara feels like slamming his head against a wall. Stupid, stupid, _idiot_. It makes sense now, far too late. “S-sorry. I’m dumb. Next time.”

“Yeah. Next time.”

That promise sends another wave of arousal through Kirihara, and his cock drips against his palm. “Maybe...more than this,” he says, pushing the limits of what he thinks he can get away with. If there’s ever a time to push the limits, it’s when he can hear Kaidou getting himself off over the phone, he thinks.

A soft sound comes through the phone, like Kaidou raking his teeth over his lip, letting out shaky breaths. “What do you..want to...do to me?”

Kirihara’s cock jumps in his hand, and he groans. His imagination finally gives up trying to repress his gayest thoughts, and images suddenly flood through him, things he’d thought about or dreamed about or just plain makes up now, inspired by Kaidou’s ragged panting breaths and the sound of his hand working his cock. “You,” he says, licking his own lips, “should let me screw you.”

“F-fuck--“

“I’ve never done it before, but I’ll do it good,” Kirihara promises breathlessly, pumping himself faster and faster, the idea of getting Kaidou on his back making him feel dizzy with hunger. “Way better than that Inui guy. Tell me I can do it.”

There’s a loud rustle, a thump, a drag of fabric over the phone, then Kaidou is back. “Sorry. Dropped the phone.” He sounds as on the edge as Kirihara feels. “...If you beat me tomorrow. You can do it.”

Kirihara’s thumb presses against his cock in just the right way. More than that, Kaidou is huskily, throatily telling him that he can actually nail him, and the idea of having that kind of power, that kind of trust, that kind of _desire_ from a guy like that is more than enough to push Kirihara over the edge, until he’s spilling all over his hand, his thighs, his shorts.

A moment later, he hears Kaidou groan loudly, then all the rustling go still. Kirihara’s heart thuds in his ears, slower now, as if reminding him that he’s still alive, and he still has a tennis match in the morning.

“...See you at the match,” he finally croaks.

The only answer is a long, snuffling breath, as Kaidou slips into sleep on the other end of the call.


	10. Chapter 10

Rikkai takes Doubles Two, and Kaidou grinds his teeth.

Rikkai takes Doubles One, and Kaidou starts to feel hot under his jersey. It’s one thing to fail to hold up what Tezuka had left him. It’s another to be shut out in the finals, brought to their knees as the reigning kings, the crown that was handed down shattered from his head.

Then Momoshiro leaps into Singles Three, fired up with his teeth bared, and smashes Urayama into the ground. Every smash blows the kid away, and even a late rally isn’t enough to save him.

“Game and set, Seigaku’s Momoshiro. Six games to two!”

Hope flares in Kaidou’s chest, and he and Momoshiro clasp hands, grips like iron.

Fukui struts onto the court, secure from his win against Shitenhouji. Kaidou takes a savage pleasure in the way his face falls when he sees Echizen stride out to face him. “What happened to your Captain taking Singles Two?” he demands, and Kaidou feels a hot surge of anger at the idea that he’d be an easier target.

Echizen raises an eyebrow. “He’s got a promise to keep. How about I entertain you for a while instead?”

~

Tension builds in Kirihara until he hears a buzzing in his ears, and not much else. Fukui puts up a good fight, good enough that Kirihara can hardly fault him, and at least he takes a couple of games. At least he makes Echizen sweat.

“Game and set, Seigaku’s Echizen. Six games to three!”

All down to this. Like he’d known it would be.

Kirihara sinks his fingertips into his racquet strings, testing the weight. It’s pulled nearly as tightly as he feels.

“Kick his ass, Captain!”

“You’ve got this, Kirihara-buchou!”

“Akaya! Always glorious, always victorious!”

His head whips around, and there they are, standing fierce in his support--Marui and Jackal, Niou and Yagyuu, Sanada and Yukimura...and Yanagi, giving him that little smile, as if this is everything he could have expected.

No.

Wait.

Yanagi’s eyes open to slits, kindled with a sudden fierce passion, his mouth tightening in what’s almost a smirk.

Kirihara stares at him, then looks over towards Seigaku’s stands, where last year’s seniors gather in a supportive cluster. He can see Inui even from this distance, looking...what? Dejected? Intense? He can’t tell from this far away, but it doesn’t seem to match Yanagi’s absolute smug confidence.

Like it wasn’t destiny.

Like it was a _plan_.

 _Did you do this to me?_ he wants to shout, but no matter what the answer is, it leads him here anyway, facing his greatest rival. _How much of it did you plan, Yanagi-senpai? Did you want me to learn about him, get to like him? Did you want me to want to beat him more than anything? Did you want me to be so jealous I’d grab out at the first person I saw, giving me a reason to fight?_

He doubts Yanagi had planned the phone sex, but he’s been surprised before. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing his senior has planned for him, laying doubts and successes and carefully structured failures in his path for months at a time. He still remembers their match against Nagoya Seitoku last year, when it had seemed like everything was down to him, and he’d first found that burning fire inside himself.

But it doesn’t matter now. Because Kaidou is waiting for him on the other side of the net.

Kirihara firms his jaw, squares his shoulders, and walks onto the court to meet the destiny that he chooses now.

He grips Kaidou’s hand. It’s as calloused and tough as his own, though Kaidou’s nails are far cleaner. It’s warm, and some of that warmth pulses through him, reminding him that he’s still human, at least for a little while longer.

“Let’s have a good match,” Kaidou says, meeting his eyes.

“Yeah.” And because he can’t help himself, Kirihara adds, “And then I’ll make you keep your promise.”

He gets to watch Kaidou blush and know what it means this time, and that sends a thrill down to his toes, making him nearly bounce on his way back to the baseline.

“Best of one set match! Seigaku’s Kaidou to serve!”

And it begins.

~

Sweat and blood drip to the pavement. The world narrows. All that exists anymore is the two of them, locked in combat, neither one relenting, neither one giving an inch. Cheers from the stands fade away, leaving them in a world of their own.

At first, there are ghosts.

Not the kind that frighten Kaidou--just the kind that weigh on him. The ghosts of his former team, watching, urging, shouting. The ghosts of his current team, screaming, supporting. He can see Kirihara’s ghosts behind him, too, and feel the pressure on both of them.

They can’t _both_ make everyone proud.

They can’t _both_ redeem themselves from last year.

Last year, Kirihara had won, and Kaidou had lost, but Seigaku had won, and Rikkai had lost. There will be no balm like that to the soul for the loser this time. Singles One. Captain versus Captain. Two matches to two already.

Winner take all.

Somewhere around the fourth game, the ghosts start to melt away. Teammates first, then friends. Kaidou feels the weight of their stares leaving him, as if he’s closed himself off to even that outside influence. It takes longer for Tezuka’s shade to burn away, and he sees Kirihara’s shoulders straighten when he loses Yukimura.

For a long game, Kaidou only feels Inui’s hands on his shoulders, too late to guide him anymore. That last impression fades at the same time Yanagi does from behind Kirihara, and then there’s nothing except Kirihara’s burning eyes.

~

Kirihara loses time.

It slips away with the announcer’s voice, with the cheers, until all that’s left is Kaidou facing him. All that’s left is the ball, and his body moves without asking for his input.

Something like a wild joy suffuses his limbs, makes him move more lightly, more swiftly, than he ever has before. Kaidou keeps up. Kaidou swings impossible shots at him, _beautiful_ shots that Kirihara couldn’t dream of hitting, but he doesn’t have to dream about it, because his body moves on its own.

He wonders, with the tiny corner of his mind that’s still himself, still calm, if people in the stands have any idea how amazing this match is that they’re watching, or if they’re just idiots who like to watch a ball move fast. It doesn’t matter. He’ll show them something incredible no matter what.

Because he’s number one.

And in that last moment, when he sees the ball perfectly set up, and his body moves fluidly to meet it, his last, intense thought is for Kaidou.

_I wish you could share this with me, Kaoru._

~

The second place trophy is much smaller and lighter than the first place trophy. It feels heavier.

Kaidou feels heavy.

They’d all congratulated him afterwards--a fine showing at Nationals, runner up is nothing to sneeze over, he’s done Seigaku proud, his match was incredible, he’s left an enduring legacy--but he hadn’t really heard it. He’s not even sure if they mean it. Echizen looks furious, Momoshiro frustrated, though both of them try to put on a brave face.

Taka-san takes them all to sushi. Kaidou excuses himself after half an hour, leaving to lean against the stone wall outside the restaurant, not sure if he wants to weep or run or sleep or hit the wall until the bones of his fingers shatter.

“Cheers,” comes the drawl he’d half-expected, and he looks up to see Echizen following him out. When had Echizen gotten as tall as he is, anyway? He sees the kid every day. Surely he would have noticed.

Slowly, Kaidou peels himself away from the wall, still exhausted. “You’ll make the lineups from now on,” he mutters, tugging his bandana down. “You never have to watch someone else lose in Singles One.”

Echizen regards him for a moment, then leans against the wall next to him. “I don’t think I could have beaten him like he was today,” he says bluntly. “You did good, Kaidou-buchou.”

Tezuka’s words hadn’t done it. For some reason, Echizen’s make that cold tight knot of guilt inside of him uncurl, and Kaidou finally accepts that he _hadn’t_ pulled a single punch, hadn’t lost on purpose, hadn’t stumbled because of his doubts.

“There’s no shame in getting your ass kicked by someone that’s better than you,” Echizen continues, his dark eyes intent. “Just in not getting better afterwards.”

“...Yeah,” Kaidou finally says, and feels his voice choke up a little. “Do it for us next year, okay? Kick Rikkai’s ass.”

Echizen snorts, and adjusts his cap, turning to go back inside. “Don’t be dumb. Next year, it’s Seigaku versus Shitenhouji.”

“How do you know?”

Echizen shrugs one shoulder languidly. “That’s who my opponent is. It’s destiny.”

Destiny. What a dumb concept.

Kaidou waits for him to go back inside, then turns to walk home, pulling out his phone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Kaoru: hey**

Kirihara sits bolt upright, despite how that makes him ache from a few pulled muscles and strains he hadn’t known he was collecting in their match the day before.

**Akaya: hey!!!!**

**Akaya: u good?**

**Kaoru: yeah. im good.**

Kirihara’s pulse pounds. He looks around his messy room, trying to decide if it’s worth it to clean up. Is that assuming too much? But he’d _won_ , and Kaidou _had_ promised...

**Akaya: u wanna com over?**

Kaidou isn’t going to say yes, Kirihara is sure. Even so, he starts straightening up, which mostly means collecting dirty dishes to take downstairs, and shoving everything else into his closet.

**Kaoru: are your parents home?**

Holy shit. Kirihara feels his cock harden instantly, and nearly drops a half-empty bag of chips.

**Akaya: umm yea but theyll be gone in like an hour. until late. sister is in her room but lemme see if i can make her go!**

**Kaoru: let me know.**

“Fuck yeah I’ll let you know,” Kirihara mutters, and searches wildly around the room for something like a bribe. Could he just ask? As a favor for being the National Champion? He’d had to do _interviews_ , which was the coolest thing ever. He’s been on _the NHK_. Surely Miyu will think that’s worth fucking off for a couple of hours.

“Heeeeey, Nee-san!”

Miyu opens her door, scowling up at him. “What?”

Shit. She’s in a mood. Kirihara aims for his most disarming smile. “Hey, I’ve got a tennis friend coming over, can you, like...go out? For a couple of hours?”

She stares at him, as if he’s a particularly gross bug. “Ew. Why?”

 _So I can stick my hand down his pants_ , Kirihara carefully does not say. He can be careful. He’s good at it for sure. “It’s, um, he’s embarrassed! About the match! Because I beat him!” He beams.

Miyu doesn’t blink. “No,” she says, and shuts the door in his face.

There _has_ to be a way around this. Maybe if he plays music really loud?

**Akaya: Yanagi-senpai no time 2 explan but how loud do u have to have music goin before no one can hear u in room time sensitive pls**

Yanagi, as if it’s a year ago and everything still makes sense, replies immediately.

**Yanagi: 90% chance this is about your sister. Check the shopping bag hanging on the back of your closet door.**

Kirihara sprints back into his room, and sure enough, there’s the signed CD Yanagi had helped him pick out for Miyu’s birthday that he’d forgotten to give to her.

The bribe is effective, and Miyu suddenly finds that it would be very good to go and visit her classmate to talk about homework.

**Akaya: all clear!!!!!**

That was probably too many exclamation marks.

**Kaoru: i’m on my way. already. be there in 30.**

The next 20 minutes are a flurry of room cleaning, followed by a panicked thought.

**Akaya: Yanagi-senpai uhhh if im havin a girl over do i need anything**

**Akaya: anything special**

**Akaya: like supplies**

**Yanagi: Congratulations, Akaya. For the purposes of this text, I will operate under the assumption that you want advice on what to bring to a sexual encounter.**

**Yanagi: I assume you have condoms? If not, you must. A bottle of lubrication would also not go amiss. Keep tissues stocked by the bedside. Don’t underestimate bottles of water, proper hydration during physical activity is of the utmost importance.**

**Yanagi: Do not “forget” the condoms. I will know if you do.**

**Yanagi: There is an 88.86% chance you’re lying, of course, and there is not a girl who is about to come over. Would you like more pointed advice?**

**Akaya: NO THANK U**

Of course, the answer is _yes, please, tell me what to do_ , but the idea of Yanagi planning _this_ makes Kirihara gag a little bit. He’s a National Champion, he can definitely figure out how to mess around with a guy.

He has about ten minutes until Kaidou arrives. Thinking fast, he grabs his allowance, and makes a dash for the convenience store on the next block, returning red-faced and triumphant with a box of condoms and a squeeze bottle of Sagami 99% Water-Based Lubrication Jelly. He makes it back to the house just as Kaidou walks up, from the direction of the station. He catches sight of Kirihara, who feels himself flush. “Hey!”

“...Hey.” Kaidou’s eyes flick down to the bag in his hand.

Kirihara grins. “Just had to, um, get some stuff. Come on in, it’s clear.”

Feeling as if he’s doing something far worse than entering his own house with a tennis friend, he opens the door, and lets them inside.

Kaidou takes off his shoes, announces his presence, and bows to the shrine on his way inside. Then, his ears pink at the tips, he asks, “You wanna...show me your room again?”

Kaidou is _so_ cool, Kirihara thinks wistfully. He could never pull off saying something like that. Then again, he supposes Kaidou is more experienced than he is, having done this with Inui before.

Suddenly, Kirihara doesn’t like that idea very much at all.

He reaches down and firmly grips Kaidou’s hand. “Come with me,” he says, and nearly yanks Kaidou up the stairs to his room, shutting the door behind them, and turns to press Kaidou against it. His body is warm, radiating heat that Kirihara can feel when they’re pressed together. Had that Inui guy kissed Kaidou? He bets he had. Well, he’ll just have to do it better.

He presses his lips against Kaidou’s. Somehow, he’d expected Kaidou to fight him, to shove back and lash out, to go tense. He doesn’t. He holds very still, then, slowly and by degrees, relaxes under Kirihara’s mouth.

It’s permission.

Kirihara lets out an eager breath through his nose, and shoves forward, emboldened by the yielding in Kaidou’s body. He doesn’t know much about kissing (usually fast-forwards that part in movies), but it seems easy enough, and he’s always had _great_ instincts. Plus, Kaidou’s hands are coming up to thread in his hair, and that makes his scalp prickle and his cock twitch.

He starts to pull back, but then Kaidou’s mouth opens under his, and before Kirihara can figure out why, Kaidou’s tongue snakes forward against his own lips, hot and wet and startling. It feels sinfully intimate, and Kirihara feels his muscles tense, his arms coming up to grip at Kaidou’s shoulders, certain that he needs _more_ of this.

Why isn’t kissing like this in the movies? Maybe if it was, he wouldn’t fast-forward it. It always looks so soft and flirty and lame, not like the way Kaidou’s teeth scrape over his lip, like the way Kaidou sighs when Kirihara’s tongue slides against his, like the way Kaidou tastes like toothpaste and feels like an athlete under his hands.

Kirihara feels like he could stay here all day, exchanging heated kisses, Kaidou pressed up between him and the door. But then someone’s weight shifts, subtly, enough that Kirihara’s cock suddenly presses against Kaidou’s hip. He feels Kaidou stiffen, and pulls away to apologize, only to have Kaidou’s hands leave his scalp, one of them plunging down into his sweatpants, and oh, _shit_.

Kaidou’s hand is calloused like his own, but it feels amazing when it curls around the shaft of his cock. Kirihara’s head tips forward, arousal sizzling up the base of his spine as his hips jerk forward. “That’s so...you’re...” His voice fails, breath coming so fast he can hardly make out his own words.

Kaidou looks up at him, his face some mixture of horny and smug that Kirihara decides he wants to see a lot more often. “You,” he says, voice a low rasp, as he licks his lips, “can just...do things to me. Don’t ask first.”

High-level! So high-level! Kirihara’s dick hardens so much in Kaidou’s hand he feels like it might escape. He stares for a moment, not sure how he got so lucky, but then remembers that he’s Number One in the country, and grabs Kaidou by the shirt, hauling him over to the bed. “I’m gonna do a _lot_ of things,” he promises, and strips off his t-shirt, pushing Kaidou down to his back. “And you’re gonna like them.”

He watches Kaidou’s eyes rake over his torso in obvious, hungry appreciation, and yeah, that goes right to his head and his cock all at once. He bends, pushing himself past that weird qualm of nerves when it comes to touching Kaidou’s shorts in turn, and yanks them off, tossing them over his shoulder.

It’s not like he’s never seen another guy naked before. He’d bathed with members of his family at onsens, seen everyone on his team and in U-17 in the changing rooms and showers. But it’s never been like _this_. He’s never been allowed to touch those guys, never really wanted to, not like this.

And they’ve never been _hard_.

(Okay, sometimes they have been hard. But it’s good manners to pretend they’re not. That’s just how sports are.)

Kirihara can’t keep his curiosity in check anymore, and lets his hand move, dragging up one of Kaidou’s strong thighs, feeling it tense and quiver under his touch, until he reaches Kaidou’s cock. He curls his hand around it, and hears the blood pulsing in his ears, in time with the pulse he feels from Kaidou’s own blood against his fingertips. “Yours gets really hard,” he whispers, as Kaidou squirms under him, breathing heavy.

Kaidou looks like he wants him to keep going, so he pulls away just enough to shove off his own sweats, covering Kaidou’s body with his own, pressing skin against skin. At some point, Kaidou’s lost his bandana, and the hair falls soft and black into his eyes, making him look surprisingly pretty.

Those kisses make him feel drunk, so he steals a few more, twining his legs with Kaidou’s, feeling his cock bump and rub up against Kaidou’s thigh. “Did you hear me, at U-17?” he asks, voice low. “At night?”

Kaidou’s breath hitches. Then, hesitantly, he nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you like it?”

He watches Kaidou’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Y-yeah.”

Kirihara can’t deny he’d liked the idea a little bit. He’d never shared a room before, but hearing the breathing when they were all lying in bed with the lights out, knowing that at any point, one of the other three could wake up and hear him, had always made him come extra hard, face stuffed into a pillow. “Good. I wanted you to.”

Kaidou’s cock nudges up against his own hip, and he feels it leave a sticky wet smear against him. Feeling Kaidou so hard, so aroused, is a whole other kind of drug.

Kaidou _wants_ him.

Kirihara isn’t sure he’s ever been wanted like this before. If he has, whoever wanted him never said it. He’s never felt like he’s so hard his skin is going to burn off if he doesn’t get some relief soon, or like he has to keep kissing someone or he’ll die. He fumbles for Kaidou’s cock again, hears the hiss when he grabs it, and starts tugging, suddenly eager to see what Kaidou sounds like when he comes. “The other night,” he pants, and he might be crushing Kaidou a little bit with his weight, but Kaidou doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes blown with pleasure. “When you were getting off, when you dropped the phone?”

“Yeah?” Kaidou’s voice is rough, and he sounds about as overwhelmed as Kirihara feels, his hands coming up to drag up and down Kirihara’s back, pulling him close.

“What were you thinking about when you came?”

Kaidou’s eyes flick up to meet his. His cheeks are stained so red it almost looks painful, his chest is heaving against Kirihara’s, and there are beads of sweat forming all over his face. Absently, Kirihara leans down and licks up his cheek, tasting skin and sweat as his hand works. “Tell me,” he says insistently. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”

Kaidou’s eyes close, his head tipping back. “What you said,” he groans, and his perfectly manicured nails dig into Kirihara’s back as he starts to shudder. “W-wanted you--to push me down--and fuck me--“

Holy shit. Kirihara isn’t entirely sure whether he’s hit the jackpot or he’s in way over his head, but either way, he’s come too far to turn back now.

The bag!

He turns, remembering just in time that Yanagi Will Know if he forgets the condom, and spots the bag on the floor. He doesn’t remember dropping it, but whatever, Kaidou’s hand had been down his pants.

He comes out with the box of condoms, and feels Kaidou shift underneath him, moving to accommodate Kirihara kneeling between his legs instead of straddling one. He takes a deep breath to calm down, the way Shiraishi had taught him, and tries exactly once to open the box before losing his patience and ripping the cheap cardboard.

Whatever. He still gets a foil package in his hands, only to have Kaidou snatch it away from him, opening it deftly at one corner with his teeth. Kirihara watches as Kaidou reaches for him, pinching the tip with one forefinger and thumb, rolling the rest onto Kirihara’s cock as it quivers under the friction. “You’ve really done this a lot, huh?” he blurts without meaning to.

Kaidou scowls up at him, obviously embarrassed. “What, like it’s complicated?” he demands. “How many times do you need to figure something like that out?”

Kirihara puts a hand in the middle of Kaidou’s chest, and shoves him back to the bed, drawing a startled grunt. “I’m gonna be the best of anyone who’s done this to you.”

For a moment, Kaidou looks about as horny and on-edge as he is. His lips are parted, pupils dilated, and he reaches absently to his own chest, tugging and pinching at a nipple, which seems to make him shiver. “Do it, then. Don’t make me--“

Kirihara steals another kiss to shut Kaidou up, then adjusts himself on his knees, pulse pounding at the thought that he’s literally about to Do It, he’s about to lose his virginity, he’s about to do something that for some reason feels really, really right with Kaidou.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

In that split second, with his cock pressed up against Kaidou’s ass, getting ready to push in, Kirihara looks down at Kaidou’s face, and realizes something kind of weird.

_I like him._

He _likes_ Kaidou Kaoru.

This isn’t exactly the time to have that conversation, though. Even if he’d wanted to, the throaty little groan Kaidou lets out as he presses up is enough to make his mind fizzle out into a red haze. He pushes forward, feels it catch, and then...

He grits his teeth. Surely, he shouldn’t have to push harder than _that_ , that doesn’t sound right.

Kaidou lets out another sound, more discomfort and less pleasure, and Kirihara sees that Kaidou’s cock is getting significantly softer. “You have some lotion or something?” he asks, strained.

“Uh...oh!” The lightbulb dawns at last, and Kirihara carefully leans to the side again, grabbing the other item from the bag. “I got the real stuff, don’t worry. Do I just...”

Kaidou’s face goes slack in obvious relief. “Yeah, just put it on, it’ll go in if you do.”

Kirihara nods to himself, pours out a generous amount, slicks himself up, and tries again.

~

Every time, just for a heartbeat, Kaidou’s mind tells him, _no, no, this was a bad idea, let’s just do something else instead._ That first burning slide into his body is overwhelming, and he throws an arm over his face as he tenses up, which only makes it worse. Grudgingly, he admits that there might have been some merit to Inui’s weird and intrusive insistence on doing it _his way_ , in certain positions, after a long period of slowly inserting fingers and, at one point, something else.

 _But you hated that_ , he reminds himself, squirming to accommodate the sudden girth of Kirihara filling him up, hearing his own breath come faster. That part had been so clinical, and he’d always felt so exposed, like a science experiment, and he’d dreamed of getting someone hot enough that they’d just push him down and fuck him without any of that nonsense in the way.

And, he has to admit, he doesn’t feel like a science experiment with Kirihara.

Maybe it’s the blissed-out look on his face, as if he couldn’t begin to hold himself together. Maybe it’s the way Kirihara is rutting in without skill or care, creating an urgent, almost punishing rhythm, still enough to make Kaidou groan. Or maybe it’s the way he keeps whispering, “Holy shit, holy shit, Karou, oh my god, this is the best--“

Slowly, Kaidou finds himself responding to that breathless panting more than anything, and he pries the arm away from his face, reaching up to pull Kirihara close. His thighs tremble, stretched and tired from holding this angle, so he wraps his legs around Kirihara’s waist, earning a startled noise as they move together even better that way. Kirihara’s body burns on top of him, and he moves with it, feeling as if he’s riding a wild animal, or being tossed around by an ocean. He hears himself making little noises, and doesn’t try to stop it.

The overwhelming fullness of Kirihara inside of him makes his mind short out. All he can think about is the way his brain keeps misfiring, throwing out random signals and impulses, making him twitch and twist and writhe and groan and pant, his cock so hard again between them that it rubs against Kirihara’s toned abs with every rough thrust.

“It’s good, right?” Kirihara asks, sounding strained. Green eyes catch Kaidou’s, glittering with intensity, demanding an answer. “For you?”

Kaidou swallows hard. Somewhere in the back of his mind he tries to remind himself that Kirihara is just using him to get off, that he doesn’t get to keep this. Maybe if he’s lucky, Kirihara will want to make this a regular thing, and they can be sex friends or something. “Y-yeah,” he manages, and brings a hand between them, swiftly gripping his own cock and stroking it in time with Kirihara’s thrusts. “It’s--really good--“

“ _Yessss_ ,” Kirihara hisses in triumph, which is sort of cute. Kaidou’s heart does a weird thudding thing, but that’s probably because Kirihara’s cock is grazing his prostate now, and he can’t breathe with the surge of electric pleasure that rushes through him.

“Fuck--right there, right there, I’m--“ Kaidou’s vision fades out as Kirihara strikes him _just right_ , and his body arches in absolute, earth-shaking orgasm, spilling over his hand and his abs, shivering from head to toe.

Kirihara stills for a second, watching him, then mutters something that sounds like, “I knew I was the best,” and starts fucking him even harder.

Kaidou groans, overstimulated and too-sensitive, and grips at anything for purchase, sinking one hand into a pillow, the other dragging down Kirihara’s back. Kirihara feels _huge_ now inside of him, brutally pounding him into the mattress, sweat dripping onto Kaidou’s face and chest with every thrust into his body, and now, as if he’s discovered some video game cheat code, Kirihara is thrusting directly into his prostate every time, making him curse and writhe.

“W-wait, it’s too--it’s too much,” he tries to say, but the words come out slurred and choppy, and he’s not entirely sure Kirihara even hears him. Whether he does or not, he doesn’t react, his voice coming in harsh pants, and then Kirihara is kissing him again, teeth rasping against Kaidou’s lips, and incredibly, Kaidou feels himself getting hard again already.

Next time, he promises himself, he’ll offer to pause and switch positions so he doesn’t cramp up. Or he’ll be firm about taking a break between rounds. Or he’ll try to get Kirihara’s hands on his nipples. Next time.

For now, he can’t think of anything he’d rather be doing than enjoying the ride, letting Kirihara slam into him as if he’s going to do it no matter what, as if he couldn’t possibly stop thrusting into Kaidou’s body if he tried. The lube makes it slick and hot, and all of Kaidou’s limbs feel sort of electrified and heavy all at once, his lingering orgasm giving way to a new arousal that feels different somehow, his body melting under Kirihara’s relentless attack.

“Kaoru,” Kirihara whispers, and Kaidou catches his eyes again, sees that Kirihara is just as overwhelmed as he is.

He nods, and fists a hand in Kirihara’s hair. He’s the one who’s done this before. He’s the one Kirihara’s taking care of. He can do this much to help finish him off, even if he does feel like he’s made of jelly. “Come on,” he urges, and lets his other hand steal down to grip Kirihara’s ass, pulling him in even farther, so much that it makes his eyes cross a little, cramping and aching inside at how much is inside of him. “You can do it, I want you to.” What would be the thing to say? What does Kirihara want to hear?

He takes a guess, and leans up to drag his teeth over Kirihara’s ear, choking out huskily, “You’re the best. You’re number one.”

The effect is so immediate Kaidou would think it was charming, if he wasn’t arching, coming again himself, feeling Kirihara’s cock jerk and swell inside of him, feeling his hands grabbing, hearing his voice breaking on a hoarse cry.

For a brief moment, Kaidou rides out the aftershocks, and wonders dazedly whether Kirihara is just going to keep going. He’s pretty sure he’d die. Die happy, but die. He opens his mouth, but then Kirihara is pulling out, making him hiss in discomfort, turning onto his side to let his thighs finally close.

“...Holy fuck,” Kirihara mutters, and looks down at himself. “Uh...”

Kaidou summons up the last of his energy, and reaches down, pulls the condom carefully off of Kirihara’s softening cock, and ties it off. His eyes stray to the end, stomach giving a weird, aroused little flutter as he notices how full it is, before he swallows and looks for a trash can. “You come a lot.”

Kirihara, splayed out on his back, sweaty and delirious and exhausted, just gives him a grin and a weary thumbs up.

Kaidou finds the trash can and tosses the condom in, then flops down next to Kirihara. Before he can say anything, Kirihara’s arms are around him, pulling him closer, until Kaidou’s head is resting on one toned bicep, and he’s curled up against that muscled chest.

“That was the best, right?”

Kaidou snorts, letting his eyes close. “Yeah.”

“I can do it again, right?”

 _Thank fucking god._ “Not right now.”

“Shit, no. But, like...later?”

Kaidou shifts, letting his cheek press against Kirihara’s chest, listening to the strangely rapid thump of his heart. “Yeah. That would be...good.”

Kirihara’s hand moves, stroking through Kaidou’s hair. For some stupid reason, that makes tears prickle at the corners of Kaidou’s eyes, and he squeezes them shut, hoping that stops the nonsense. “If you came to Rikkai next year, we could do it all the time.”

“Hmph.”

“No, think about it. Wouldn’t it be fun? You could be my vice-captain.”

“You won’t be captain next year. We’ll be first-years again.”

Kirihara makes a disparaging noise. “Whatever. I might just go pro anyway, like Yukimura.”

“Then there’s no reason for me to go to Rikkai.” Even if being invited had made him feel warm inside.

“Well...” Kirihara keeps petting his hair, even if he’s sweaty. It’s cute. “Think about it anyway. My dad says I can’t go pro unless I prove I can keep my grades up without a tutor, so...that’s probably not gonna happen until after high school, which is _so_ lame.”

Slowly, as if he’s going to be scolded, Kaidou lets his hand drop to Kirihara’s chest, slowly tracing the muscles with his fingertips, just enjoying the feel of another man’s body. Kirihara is beautifully built, still slender with youth, but filling out with muscle in all the right places. “Because you want me to be your vice-captain.”

Kirihara is quiet for a moment. Then he sighs. “Yeah. You’d be great at it. And...we’d be unstoppable. Fuck destiny, we could win everything. Don’t you feel like we’d be the best team ever?”

Kaidou lets his eyes slide shut again. “Ask me again after the Worlds this year.”

“Deal.”

“Good.”

“Hey, Kaoru?”

“Mm?”

“Can we keep doing it until then?”

Kaidou’s heart flutters again. He feels an answering thump from Kirihara’s chest, pressed against his cheek. “Yeah.”

“If I win the Worlds, you should do it.”

“...If _I_ win the World’s, you have to come to Seigaku. Be my vice-captain.” Not like he’d be competing with Tezuka, off on the pro circuit in Germany.

“Hell, yeah.” He can hear Kirihara grin. “We’re gonna be, like, _so_ good at sex by then.”

Kaidou snorts. “You’re already pretty good at it.”

“I’m gonna be better. Gonna be the best. Number one.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re number one.”

Kaidou has a feeling, as the door downstairs opens and shuts, and they scramble into their clothes, that there will always be another bet, another wager, another battle. Even if he’s writing his own destiny now, it would be boring without someone to write it with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming on this ride with me! Hope someone out there enjoyed. This fic is dedicated to that bit in Tenimyu Season 3 where Kirihara nearly licks Kaidou in the face during their match (with Inui and Yanagi).


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